Whispers in the Night
by MissDizzyD
Summary: 30 years. 24 children. 1 victor. How will this year's tributes fare against the horrors of the Arena? And who will come home victorious? The 30th Annual Hunger Games - Whispers in the Night.
1. Foundations

**Chapter 1: **Foundations

_**Galinda Westenra, Head Gamemaker **_

_Today's the day I could die. _I tell myself as I do a final makeup check in the corridor outside President Fungi's office. _This is it._ I straighten my green blazer. _I could be about to die._ I'm almost excited by that simple fact. There's nothing more I can do so I might as well enjoy the exhilaration. I've done my absolute best on these plans so even if today is my final day on Earth, I will know I tried. These plans are perfect. These plans are eccentric – beautiful – deadly. These plans show every single detail of this year's Hunger Games. Everything from strategically placed muttations to carefully concealed cameras is meticulously mapped out on these plans.

_These plans…These plans could mean the difference between life and death. _

Oh well. There's nothing for it now. I look at my watch. 10 seconds until I'm expected.

_What if she kills me straight away? Just puts a bullet in my skull? _

6…5…4…

_I wonder if it will hurt terribly. I'm just glad my daughter won't see. _

3…2…1… The grandfather clock chimes midnight as I knock on the door and await my summons.

_**President Yolanda Fungi **_

There's a knock at my office door.

"Enter!" I call imperiously. I know who this visitor is and it is best I make an impression now. She walks in.

The fashions of the Capitol never cease to astound me. This _woman_ is only a small taster or what is to be seen out there in the streets. Since when was silver skin remotely in vogue? And honestly, her hair looks as though it's moulding. What would the teens of the Capitol call that colour? Sea green? I don't know. Further observation tells me that her lips are painted the same hue and even her eyes are filmed with the disgusting colour.

She walks right over to me before talking, as though she needs to be a foot from me before she regains speech capabilities. Thank God there's still the desk between us.

"My noble, honourable President." She bows low so that her tinted hair brushes the surface of the bureau.

"Yes, yes, yes. Enough of that rubbish." She straightens up slowly, looking at me with fearful eyes, as though I might bite her head off. Interesting idea. "Amaze me, dearest Galinda." I command, the power back in my voice.

_**Galinda Westenra, Head Gamemaker **_

"Amaze me, dearest Galinda." And so I do. First I lay out each blueprint on her desk, pointing out the features that I am particularly proud of. There are 17 plans in all so by the time I have answered all of her questions in full, including fine details, it is well past 2am. I do not dare to look disgruntled by the length of this meeting. No way. I can't afford that lapse of judgment. Not if I like my head on my shoulders, where I normally keep it. Although that sort of surgery is probably possible.

"I implore you, sweet, darling Galinda, tell me there's a hologram to go with this." I'm startled by the look of utter veneration in her eyes. She wants more. I'll give her more. I slide my hand into the pocket of my green trousers and pull out the remote. Setting it on her desk I respond.

"Yes, most kind President, there is also a hologram for you." I bow my head in respect.

"Show me." I press the red button in the very centre of the circular controls and wait. It takes 3 seconds to boot up, scan its surroundings and then project the Arena, in full 3D, into President Fungi's office.

_**President Yolanda Fungi **_

It is not a frequent occurrence for me to be amazed, but my new Head Gamemaker has set a completely new standard with her Arena. Talk about meticulous planning. I'm astounded. I take in the deliberate curves of the force field, high enough that no one and nothing can possibly touch them. The treacherous peaks of the mountains, just north of the twisting river. And beyond the hills are the forests, but the trees…

"But, why are they dead?" I ask as calmly as I can.

"That, President, is the Whispering Forest." I listen intently as she describes what it does to the tributes. This woman is incredible. She may see another year as Head. As she points to the centre of the forest, I cast my eyes to the ceiling to thank whichever God sent me such an evil creature. Then I notice the hologram title.

"Is that what it's called, then? The Arena is called _that_?" I interrupt her mid-sentence. She freezes, her eyes wide, and then follows my gaze.

"Not necessarily, if you don't like it, then it can be changed. Nothing is set without your permission, my most revered President." She bows again.

"No. It's perfect. Faultless. My dear, you have topped last year's Games by far." That is an understatement. There was a reason I needed a new Head Gamemaker. The last one didn't exactly retire. "Everything about this Arena is excellent. Start construction. Make sure nothing is changed. Leave me now." She reaches across to take the hologram projector. "No. Leave it. I will send it to you in the morning. I need a while longer to contemplate."

She scurries out, muttering apologies and compliments, until the door finally clicks shut and I leap out of my seat, circling the Arena, viewing this spectacle in all its splendour. This woman is incredible. Nothing can top this. I glance once more at the name of Galinda's masterpiece and shiver with anticipation.

_"Disturbia."_


	2. Tribute List

**Tribute List**

**Female first then male underneath.**

D1 - Athena Diamond, 18

D1 - Damian Flashman, 18

D2 - Quartz "Q" Enright, 17

D2 - Flint Laurer, 16

D3 - Alessia "Ally" Monroe, 15

D3 - Christian "Chris" Foster, 12

D4 - Corallina "Cora" Radcliffe, 17

D4 - Poseidon Tanner, 14

D5 - Phoebe "Fee" Electra, 12

D5 - Aidan Gray, 16

D6 - February McKinley, 15

D6 - Hugo Ataylo, 15

D7 - Hemlock "Hemmy" Austbury, 17

D7 - Ash Tamarack, 16

D8 - Francis "Fran" Weaver, 13

D8 - Warp Fiasco, 13

D9 - Rye Miller, 15

D9 - Aston Goren, 17

D10 - Robyn Freescott, 16

D10 - Jay Freescott, 16

D11 - Demeter Ceres, 14

D11 - Sage Wilmslow, 15

D12 - Frequently "Free" Mine, 12

D12 - Joiner Humphrey, 17

* * *

**I hope you like the tributes, next Chapter soon, I'm trying to shorten it because I'm nearly 3,000 words in and I haven't even got to the Reaping yet :)**


	3. District 1 Reaping

**Chapter 2:** District 1, Reaping Day

_**Athena Diamond, D1**_

I open my eyes. Hmm. How much have I overslept by? I can never normally see the sunlight shining through the window when I wake up. I try to lift my head but it feels as though someone has replaced by brain with lead. I stretch and roll over on my goose feather mattress so I can get a look at my alarm clock. Except nothing is quite as it should be.

I scream.

"Who are _you_?" I ask in exasperation, shuffling away from the strange man in my bed.

"Me? I'm Marcus." I shake my head. "We met last night…?" Ahh. Suddenly everything makes sense. Massive headache + major lie in + strange man in my bed = hangover. I went drinking with Sasha last night. We've been going drinking about twice a week since my 18th birthday, 5 months ago. There isn't always a stranger in my bed.

Sasha is incredible, her carefree personality directly mirrors my own and her father is Head Peacekeeper, meaning she has the money to go out drinking. That and the fact that we train for the Games together means…we…

The Games. Shit.

It's Reaping day. And I've only just woken up. I gasp and leap out of my bed.

"Get out! Now!" He looks at me as though I've just professed my love of Chinese opera. "Get the hell out of my house! It's Reaping day!" He just nods at me absentmindedly, seeming distracted. He's not even looking at my face! …Oh. I'm completely naked. I bet he is too. Well, this is awkward. "Eyes up, Michael!"

"Erm… it's Marcus, actually…" He's not getting it.

"Ok, let me break it down for you, Matthew. Today is Reaping day." I stoop and pick up his trousers. He nods. "I just woke up with a stranger in my bed." I bend and snag his shirt with my finger tips. He shrugs his shoulder but nods again. "I am volunteering today." He frowns at this, but I don't have time for stupid people today. I pick up his shoes, which are by the bathroom door. "Yes. Volunteering! And I LOOK LIKE SHIT!" I throw the pile of clothes at him and run into the bathroom.

I just sit for a minute, drinking in my appearance. My hair is a mess! Sticking up in ashy blonde tufts then falling down my back. My deep blue eyes are rimmed by eyeliner and mascara that's been smudged down my face during the night. I look like a panda. Still, an attractive panda. I look for just another minute before I jolt back into action, twisting the shower handle so a jet of lukewarm water streams out.

Shampoo. Conditioner. Body wash. Daydream… Come on, Athena! Get moving! Leg shave. And out. Towel dry. Blow dry hair. Where's my toothbrush?

I'm rooting through my dresser for something suitable to wear when there's a timid knock on my door. I grab a dressing gown and run over, nearly yanking the door off its hinges in my haste.

"Miss Athena." It's the servant. "Your father asked me to inform you that he will no longer be letting strange men into the house when you are so inebriated. And he asked me to tell you that breakfast is on the table."

"Yes, thank you." I try to respect the servants because although I have very little patience with their interruptions, some of them are worth keeping. Like this one. Her name is Louisa. She's a year younger than me but she is twice as good with clothes. She can help me with my current predicament. "Louisa, I need your help." With that I grab her sleeve and drag her into my room. Her eyes widen as she takes in the mess that I made while looking for he perfect outfit. My entire wardrobe is strewn carelessly across my bed. "I need something to wear for the Reaping." I explain and pull her towards the chaos.

We spend the next 45 minutes going through different combinations of shirts and trousers, blouses and skirts. Until finally we decide. I whip off my robe and slip on the hot pink sun dress. She gasps.

"It's beautiful, Miss Athena. Maybe with… these?" She says, pulling out a pair of pale pink kitten heels.

"Louisa, you are officially a genius." I say, taking the shoes and slipping them on. She shrugs modestly. "Did you say breakfast…?" She smiles, nods and then curtseys, leaving the room. "Oh wow. Athena, you are going to blow them away." I tell myself, turning back to the mirror I had been studying.

_**Damian Flashman, D1**_

Reaping day. At last. My chance to shine has finally arrived. I can win these Games. I've been training all morning and still feel ready to take on anyone.

I stop running (10 miles is plenty for a relatively empty day) and trudge back to my house. When I say 'my house', it's technically my sister, Danielle's. She was just nice enough to take me in 4 years ago when my father was executed and my bitch of a mother married that peacekeeper, Samuel Crowley.

I hate my mother. She doesn't care for me or Danielle. Granted, Dannie is 22 now, but even when we were younger, she didn't give a damn. It was always father who loved us, but he's long gone now after being caught stealing a diamond the size of his fist. They killed him on live television.

So you may wonder why I'm volunteering for almost certain death.

I'm not going to die. I'm different. I'm the soon-to-be-victor of the 30th Annual Hunger Games. I just need to get up on that stage, no matter what or who gets in my way, and introduce myself to the nation.

I bang the front door closed and shout a greeting to my sister, who then plods into the hallway, eating an apple.

"Hey loser." She says. This is our way of communicating affection, as anyone with siblings would understand.

"Hey slut." She tackles me, dropping the apple on the side table, but I knew this was coming and I have her in a headlock in seconds.

Laughing, I let her go.

"Enough playing, Damian. Now, you're at the Cornucopia - image it." She knows that I'm volunteering today and she fully supports me, even though she lost her boyfriend in the 26th Hunger Games. I sigh and she scowls at me. "Image it, arsehole!"

I close my eyes, mainly to appease her, rather than because it actually helps me imagine anything. "Good. You're at the Cornucopia, and some malnourished 12 year old girl decides to attack your supplies. What do you do?" She likes doing these simulations with me; it makes her feel useful.

I crack open one eye, and am amused to see that she, in fact, also has her eyes closed, imagining with me. I reclose my eyes and think it through.

"Throw a knife. Or stab them. Or squish the midget. Depending on how far away they are."

I open my eyes and look at her, finding her dark brown eyes staring at me, brimming with tears and shining with pride.

"My baby brother's going to be a Victor." She says with a quavering voice. I guess this is her maternal side emerging because this is how a mother should act to eternal glory, rather than shrugging and ignoring you like my real mother did.

I playfully punch her shoulder. "You bet your ass." She smiles at me. And all I feel is gratefulness to my big sister. She took me in, then trained me, then fed me and watered me every single day for 4 whole years. How can I ever repay her for this? Of course, the answer has always been the same.

I can win.

_**Athena Diamond, D1**_

He stretches up and kisses my forehead. Somehow managing muss up my entire fringe in the process.

"Father!" I cry indignantly. I can't have him messing it up now. Not when I'm going to be seen by the whole of Panem on live television. I have to look my best.

"Darling, no one will care what you look like today. You won't be picked." He replied, soothingly. I feel my eye's start to widen, but get my features back under check pretty damn quickly.

He still doesn't know I'm volunteering. Oops. I don't have the guts to tell him now. Then I remember that I need a token.

"Father, wait for me, I need my necklace." And I run up to my room to ransack my jewellery box for the chain he gave me on my 18th birthday. I'm still trying to fasten it when I rejoin my father downstairs.

"Here, allow me, sweetheart." I turn around and hold my hair up. I shudder. Why is he always so damn cold? Finally he spins me around and pulls me into a hug. "Don't be nervous, honey, you won't be picked." I draw back and smile at him, trying to hide my guilt. Oh well. He'll know soon enough.

"Come on. We don't want to be late, Daddy."

I guess living right next to the Justice Building has its benefits. No sooner have we stepped onto the porch than we arrive. Great. I turn to him once more and see he has a toothpaste smudge on his chin. I lick my finger and wipe it away, smiling.

"What would you do without me?" I say condescendingly.

"I don't know." Actually… that was rhetorical…

I smile once more and turn into the square sauntering over to the section of Female 18 Year Olds and stand next to Sasha.

"Hey. Hell of a party last night. My room still smells of Martin." I say. She laughs and then frowns.

"Did you know that guy?" She asks, pulling a disgusted face.

"Well… no." I say, reluctantly.

We look at each other again and laugh. I love times with Sasha. We have to stop for now though because my father has started rambling about the Treaty of Treason again. We've all heard this way too many times.

But then our escort, Hebbadine Frootful takes to the stage, declaring how nice it is to be in District 1. She should be grateful. She's been escorting for nearly 15 years, waiting to get here. This is her second year in our District and she's still ecstatic about her appointment.

This is it.

This is it, this is it, this is it.

Her hand lowers into the Reaping Bowl in slow motion. She pulls back, a slip of paper clasped in her Capitol claws. She opens it.

"Harriet Madely!" She squawks in her silly accent. A scream echoes around the square as a midget from the 12 year old section steps forward. I almost rethink volunteering just so I can watch this shorty fight for her life. But this is my last chance. Now or never.

I throw my hand into the air and announce calmly and arrogantly "I volunteer!" Snaking through the crowds to the stage, I see my father gaping at me and I smile apologetically at him. Once on stage, I introduce myself to Panem.

"Hi, I'm Athena. Athena Diamond. I'm the mayor's daughter here in District 1." I give a winning smile, wiggle my fingers in a wave and wink at the camera. I look haughtily at the faces smiling up at me. The girl I volunteered for grins gratefully at me and nod in acknowledgement.

I look over at the male section of the square and think: _'Which of those lucky boys will have me as District partner?' _I catch the eye of a tall, muscled (and rather attractive) 18 year old and he winks at me. I smile and flick my hair, batting my eyelashes at the boy.

Hebbadine makes her way over to the boys' reaping bowl and roots around for _ages_, apparently trying to find the perfect slip.

I glance at the handsome boy again…

_**Damian Flashman, D1**_

That Athena girl looks at me again, half a smile curving her beautiful lips. Damn. I bet she's a freaking good kisser. Concentrate, Damian. You're going to have to kill that girl. Don't get too attached.

"Arthur Afuga!" Hebbadine cries in her fuck-awful Capitol accent. This is my chance. I ignore the other volunteers and stroll calmly onto stage, looking cool but ruthless. I get there and take my place next to Athena. I look at her and laugh. Her eyes are wide, her jaw dropped. I wink, hoping to communicate my feelings: _See you on the train._

She understands because she corrects her expression and raises one thin, arched eyebrow. The look on her face now is a look of anticipation. She definitely understood and I am really looking forward to the train now.

"Oh. Hello. And what's your name, dear?" That's Hebbadine, interrupting my little fantasy.

"I'm Damian Flashman, the Victor of the 30th Hunger Games. And don't call me 'dear'; snapping your neck would be child's play." I say, aiming to sound matter of fact rather than ruthless. I find that the more composed tributes are more feared because they come across as cunning and sly as well as cruel.

"Oh… it's very nice to meet you, Damian." I smirk and look for Dannie in the crowd. When I finally find her, she is smiling at me and nodding. I think there might be more tears of pride as well, which is worrying. I can't be dealing with that in the Justice Building. She'll probably want to do another mental simulation though.

My eyes wander to Athena and see that she is smiling at me.

"Damian." I say, holding out my hand. She takes in. Mmm, soft hands.

"Athena."

"So I heard." She giggles and we walk into the Justice Building.

I'm escorted to some sort of posh living room where I am told to sit and wait for my family members.

Eventually, Dannie walks in, her arms wide and smiling so wide that I'm sure I can see her molars. She looks proud and a little smug. I hug her for a second until she lets go and grabs my shoulders.

"Right. You run out of water and can't find a source anywhere. What do you do?" Well, in the actual Arena, this particular event would never happen. I will also have water either from the Cornucopia or from sponsors. Water will never be a problem. But I humour her anyway.

"I climb a tree as high as possible and look for a particularly green piece of landscape."

"Or…" I don't know. This is a first. She scowls. "Kill someone. That will get you sponsors, tosspot!" She smacks my cheek lightly. "Right, enough of that - do you have a token?"

"No. I figured they were unnecessary." I say with a shrug of my shoulders. It's true. They would only slow you down.

"Tough luck, Damian, you're having one." She digs in her pocket. "Here," she says, holding out her closed fist to me. I show her the palm of my hand, and feel something very light and dainty drop into it.

I know what it is once I look more closely. Her half-coin necklace. Before her boyfriend's Games, he found a coin, split it in half and made a necklace from each of the pieces. He had one and she had the other. His half was his token. He told her that when he came back, the two halves would be reunited forever. It was a great plan except for the fact that he never came back. You could say that half of Dannie is still missing. That year was made even worse by the fact our father died a month or so later, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

I can't believe she's giving me the necklace. It's like I'm taking the other half of her with me and it feels completely wrong.

"I can't, Dannie. It's yours."

"Yes, it's mine and I'm _lending_ it to you for the Games. I want it back when you come home." She says, trying to be menacing but her sadness shows through the mask. I hug her again, ignoring all embarrassment and tension. "I love you, Damian, remember that. I need you to come home."

"I…er… I love you too, Dannie." _See_ _Damian? That wasn't nearly as bad as you expected, was it? _I think to myself as she says a final goodbye and leaves. _No. It wasn't._

I guess I don't have anyone else in the entire world, so I might as well sit down and enjoy the comfy sofa. My thoughts drift to Athena. I wonder how willing she'll be… I'm jolted out of my reverie again, not by Hebbadine this time but by a surprise visitor.

Immy Afuga. I know of her of course – she was in my maths class at school – but I've never spoken to her. She's just another one of the rabble. I don't have time for friends. She comes and sits by me.

"Hey. I just came to say thank you. I know you didn't volunteer to save my brother but, whatever your motives, you did technically save his life and I couldn't let that go unnoticed. Thank you."

I don't know what to say. I'm completely stuck for words. That doesn't happen very often, I have to say.

"Erm… that's ok." I say and we sit uncomfortably until the Peacekeeper comes in to tell us that our time is up. Then she kisses me. Not a hot, full-on kiss but a sweet peck on the cheek. My heart starts to throb. Oh no. I've heard Dannie talking about when her boyfriend kissed her and how she knew she was in love. I ponder this as I walk to the train…

I think I've fallen in love. Oh no.


	4. District 2 Reaping

**Chapter 3:** District 2, Reaping Day

_**Quarts "Q" Enright, D2**_

Reaping day. Volunteering day. The two are synonymous for me this year. 6 months ago I decided that this year was my turn and amended my training programme. I now train for 4 hours in the morning, spend the 6 obligatory hours in school, train for 5 hours after school (with Kitty, Tara and Vice) and run home to my doting Peacekeeper father.

I don't care for school. In fact, I'm failing nearly all my classes except history, where my knowledge of past Games lends me a helping hand. The only use of school is catching up on sleep. Due to my stringent training agenda, I only have so much time to sleep at home (I get about 4 hours each night) so school, particularly maths, I find, is the perfect opportunity to recharge. And no one dares to tease me about it. Except Flint Laurer. That son of a bitch is going down when I come home as Victor.

Or maybe…

And the plan blossoms. I could rig the Reaping. I have that in my power. Between my – ahem – persuasion techniques and my father's position, we could totally make him Tribute. How I'd love to see his stupid face when he realises he's against me.

I get out of bed and skip lightly down stairs, beaming at my father and putting on my best _'perfect little daddy's girl'_ act for him.

"Morning, Daddy." I trill.

"Good morning, sweetie. Are you ready for the Reaping?" No, actually, I only just woke up and I look like I crawled out of a skip.

"Yes, nearly, just a couple of adjustments." And I run my fingers through my waist length brown hair. Or I try to. They get stuck in a knot halfway down. I desperately try to extract my hand while his back is turned. I've just pried it away when he spins around and gazes at me with those wide, dark brown eyes that I inherited.

"You already look beautiful, honey." I smile sweetly at him and look away modestly. He walks over to me and places his palms on my cheeks, holding my face about a foot from his. "Now, sweetie. Is there anything I can do today?"

This is it.

"Well… maybe… No, not really…" There. The seed has been planted. His brow creases with worry.

"Honey, what is it? Anything for you on this big day." He says. I love this. I have him completely wrapped around my little finger.

"Well, there's this guy in my English class and, well…" I'm struggling now. How do I phrase this without sounding malicious?

"Q, we agreed, no boys until you're 18…" He says, warningly.

"Oh no, daddy, I'd never. Especially not this boy. He's… he's _horrible_ to me, daddy. And he said, the other day… he said 'Oh, there's nothing I'd love more than to be a tribute in the Games this year' and I thought, maybe just to show no hard feelings between us, that maybe we could fix the Reaping so he gets his wish…?" I leave it dangling and after a second of contemplation, he decides.

"Now, sweetie, I know that this isn't exactly legal, but for your sake, I'll do this one thing for you." He sounds as if he's giving me an early Christmas present. Doesn't he realise that if he hadn't done it voluntarily, I would've forced him? Stupid man.

"Yay! Daddy, thank you so _so_ much. He'll be _so_ grateful!" I know I'm laying it on thick, but I leap up from my chair and throw my arms around his neck.

"Anything, for you, Little Miss Q."

_Yes, anything for me._ I smile wickedly behind his back.

You better look out, Flint Laurer.

_**Flint Laurer, D2**_

Reaping day. But that's ok. I won't be chosen. Really, the odds against it are astronomical and you'd never catch me volunteering, not like some of the idiots here in 2 (such as Quartz Enright or her friends). I have too much to live for. For example my sweet, beautiful 8 year old sister, Callie, currently nestled against my arm sleeping.

I'm only 16 and I support my whole family, really. My mother is dead from a cancerous tumour in her brain and my father lost a leg from an accident in the big mountain at the centre of District 2 so he can't work. I, on the other hand, work in the part of the District known as 'The Snuff Box'. It's a small underground cavern with a waterfall at one end and dust swirling around the rest of it that makes everyone sneeze – hence its name.

To say I work there is an exaggeration because, really, I only sell there. You see, I whittle charms for bracelets out of wood that I find around. It's quite a skill, really. I tried teaching my friends Sammie and Mitchell, but neither of them were very good at it. Sammie thought it would be easy and tried to make a star. That was a hilarious lapse of judgement by her. She still has her first (and only) attempt somewhere I think and she continues to marvel at how I can create rabbits and cats and such like out of bits of scrap wood.

Selling at The Snuff Box definitely has its advantages. For a start, that's where I first met Sammie. She was selling her recently deceased Grandmother's possessions and I complimented a scarf (to break the ice) and we got on like a house on fire. She then introduced me to Mitchell, her cousin. Now the 3 of us are best friends. We rely on each other for sanity.

The odds of Sammie being chosen are a lot higher than mine. She's been taking tesserae for her, 6 siblings and 2 parents for 5 years now, plus the 5 obligatory entries. Go figure. She'll have 50 entries in the Reaping this year.

I'll only have 5 – I've been forbidden to take ANY tesserae, ever.

I have to comfort myself with the fact that Q is volunteering this year. But what about next year when she'll have 60? Or the year after when she'll have 70 slips with her name on in the Reaping Bowl?

I shiver. It doesn't bear thinking about.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't care for Sammie more than I should. I care about her more than just a friend. I think I love her.

Anyway, it's Reaping Day and the hands on the clock are shifting relentlessly towards the dreaded time. I'd better wake Callie.

"Wake up, Callie. It's _that day_ again." I know my sister hates hearing (or even thinking) the word 'Reaping', so we make the effort for her and call Reaping Day _'that day' _instead. It's childish, but if it makes her more comfortable then I'm all for it.

She moans something incomprehensible and lashes out at me in her sleep. Wow, she's irritating even when she's unconscious. I regret thinking that straight away. There's nothing I love more than Callie.

"Come on, sleepy head, we don't want to miss it, do we?" I say.

"Yes. Actually. I'd love to." She murmurs. Callie has always been intelligent for her age. She was starting to talk at just a few months and had mastered sarcasm and irony by about the age of 4. This child is a constant joy to me.

"Come on, Callie, we can't miss it, as much as we'd like to. They'd probably kill us or something." It's true. I mean, if they can send 24 children to die because of something that happened decades ago, they probably aren't above killing me for breaking the rules today.

"At least then I could rest in peace." She giggles at her own joke. A cute, carefree, childish giggle that makes me smile, even though her joke wasn't at all funny. Rest in peace. Really?

We eventually make our way downstairs with much groaning. We know better than to slate the Capitol but that doesn't mean we can't complain about getting up in the mornings. They haven't gone that far. Yet.

As I fix us breakfast, I wonder if I'll see Sammie before the Reaping. I'll definitely see Mitchell because we're in the same age category and we're both male, but Sammie will be on the other side of the aisle with the rest of the girls. I might get a glance of her…

Oh well. I can't chase her forever, can I?

And with that grim thought fresh in my mind, we set off for the Square.

_**Quartz "Q" Enright, D2**_

___I hate the Town Square_. I think as I cross to my section. The people move aside, making space for me. They know me. _It's for the people who are too cowardly for the Games._

My father left the house about half an hour before me to 'prepare' everything for the Reaping. God alone knows what he's going to do with the slips he takes _out_ of the Bowl. Oh well. That is no longer my problem.

I stand right next to the aisle so I can make my way up to stage without incident. Can you imagine if I were to volunteer calmly and assuredly only to have some snotty 12 year old not know me and move straight away? That would be embarrassing. I need the most direct path straight to the stage.

I notice that I have a circle of space about a metre in diameter surrounding me. Good. They fear me. Glancing around, I find that they all wear the same terrified expression, with wide, fearful eyes. I giggle to myself and smile at one of them, baring my teeth menacingly. She faints - literally faints - into the girl next to her. This is good. The Capitol will see me with my bubble around me and it'll be known that they fear me.

I look to my left, across the aisle, and notice Flint Laurer staring at me, one eyebrow raised, as if to say _'Hey, Quartz, I'm not impressed.'_

That guy can get under my skin like no one else.

_**Flint Laurer, D2**_

That girl can get under my skin like no one else.

Does she realise that she literally alienates everyone around her except for her training friends? Except none of them can even stand with her at the Reaping, because they're all 18. Strangely, she breaks eye contact first, a weird smug smile on her lips. Why would she be smug? I look away from her and to my left, where Mitchell stands, wittering away to anyone who will listen. No one's listening. He's only carrying on because I'm _pretending_ to listen.

I've got a really bad feeling about today, a kind of morbid premonition that something bad is going to happen. Suddenly a thought hits me.

"Hey, Mitchell?" I say, interrupting his spiel. "If I ever got Reaped, would you look after Callie?" He looks confused by this question.

"Yeah… sure I would… a-and I'd look after Sammie too…" I glance at him quickly, looking away too suddenly. I must look like a rabbit in the headlights. "I see the way you look at her, Flint. I know she's my cousin and all but it doesn't bother me that much. You'd only be good for her."

"If only she felt about me like I feel about her." I say, almost forgetting that Mitchell's here.

"She does, mate. More than you know." I stare at him, just waiting for something more. More information. I need more.

But of course, the Capitol ruins everything and our escort, Liggy-Mae Freeman, a woman with black hair and black lipstick, steps up to the microphone and I am forced to listen to how great the Capitol is. I feel like jumping up and shouting _'I don't care! Sammie! I need to know about Sammie!' _I glance over to the girls section and try desperately to find her.

"She's there." Says Mitchell, pointing to where Sammie is stood, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet in nervousness. She's scared. If not for herself, then for her 2 eligible siblings.

Just as I think this, she looks around and right at me. Her eyes contain a silent plea for reassurance.

"Calm down." I mouth at her. She nods and smiles very unconvincingly. I smile back, putting all the warmth and comfort I can into the simple action.

I turn to look back at the stage, but I'm distracted by Q, who is smiling at me again, looking utterly smug. _Why?_

I have no time to ponder it, however because Liggy-Mae is finally onto the part of the Reaping that we all care about.

"So, this year, we're going to break tradition. I was thinking about what I could do to make this year a little bit different. And I arrived at this breakthrough… _gentlemen_ first!" She looks completely proud of her 'breakthrough', though, looking around the Square, no one else seems to be as thrilled as she is. Her smile falters, but she continues with as much gusto as possible, tottering over to the Bowl.

"Flint Laurer!"

I glance around again as she reads the name and Q is _still_ staring at me! What's wrong with her?

Liggy-Mae repeats the name. Why is no one going up?

Then it hits me… _I'm_ Flint Laurer. _I'm_ meant to be going up. _I'm_ meant to go and die.

I step into the aisle and amble onto stage. Someone will volunteer. Someone _always_ volunteers, right? I walk past where Sammie is stood and, contrary to before, she is stood still as a statue except for the tears rolling noiselessly down her cheeks. I'm suddenly filled with confidence. She cares that much? I smile at her and take the steps to the stage two at a time.

I can win this. If Sammie wants me, I'll do anything to get home to her.

_**Quartz "Q" Enright, D2**_

Ahahahaaa! His face! He was so shocked! I've never been so amused in my life! I must thank Daddy for this.

Flint looks down into the girls section again, just to my right and forwards a bit. He kept looking there before as well. I follow his reassuring gaze and find a girl with red hair and pale skin shaking her head in defiance. Suddenly it's not so funny. I've just ruined this girl's life. I bet she's in love with him. But I have to recover my camera face, it's time.

That stupid Capitol woman dips her hand into the Reaping Bowl. It doesn't matter who she picks, I'm volunteering anyway, so I wish she'd just hurry the hell up – it's pretty cold out here.

"Quartz Enright!" She yells. I laugh out loud. What are the chances of her actually picking me? Out of all the people here with tesserae to their name, what were the chances? I walk deliberately onto stage and smile to the crowd.

"Hi, I'm Quartz Enright. Call me Q." I insist as I shake Liggy-Mae's hand with a warm smile.

"Hello Q." She says, returning my smile. I can see we're going to get along. She loves the Games just as much as me. She turns to the crowd. "No volunteers? A year with no volunteers from District 2?" She asks, surprised. I need to get this straight. It will get me more sponsors.

"Oh, Liggy. I was going to volunteer anyway, but you picked me! Thank you very much for that. What were the chances?" I'm playing the sweet, good natured card on purpose. Sponsors love that. How many times have I seen it in the Arena? Way too many.

"Ahh, Q. That explains it." She says, positively beaming at me. We laugh together.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Flint looking distractedly at the crowd. Does he not realise I'm stealing his sponsors? But he's still staring at that girl with a kind of worried, reassuring smile, almost beseeching her not to cry.

Everyone in the Square notices my preoccupation and heads turn toward the couple, still in their own little world. Flint notices the silence and looks up and around, making eye contact with me and Liggy-Mae who are both staring unashamedly at the pair.

Liggy-Mae gasps.

"Flint! Is that your girlfriend?" She says in a mock-scandalised voice.

"Something like that." He admits, causing both him and the girl to go a bit pink. The cameras immediately zoom in on her.

From the front I recognise her from school. I think her name's Sammie.

"Don't worry, folks, we'll hear all about it in the interviews, right?" Says Liggy-Mae, obviously excited by the though.

Flint grunts moodily, says "Shall we go in then?" and gestures at the Justice Building.

We do and we are escorted to separate rooms. I see how upset he is by the scene in the Square and I now feel nothing but guilt about what I did.

I think I'm developing a conscience. That's not good, just before the Games.

_**Flint Laurer, D2 **_

__Great. Now the whole of Panem has seen how much I care about Sammie. I'm taken to a room with a plush velvet sofa and I'm told to sit and wait. I do so and about a minute later, Mitchell runs in, shaking his head. Alone.

"Where's Sammie?" I say. Maybe I misinterpreted her tears just now and she doesn't want to see me.

"She ran home for something. I didn't catch what, but she said she'd be here soon." I'm comforted by the thought of that. She does want to say goodbye after all. "So… what do you want to talk about?"

What we actually end up talking about is things that have no actual relevance to anything. What people were wearing at the Reaping and who was crying and how ridiculous Liggy-Mae looked. Anything we can think of as a distraction until Sammie walks in, just staring at me, tears still brimming in her eyes.

"I'll just… yeah… see you, Flint." I nod; not taking my eyes off Sammie and Mitchell leaves the room eventually with an _'I told you so'_ look plastered on his face.

"Come here." I say, holding my arms out for a hug. She runs into them and collapses onto me, sobbing her heart out on my shirt. "Shh… Sammie, listen, you'll be ok." I whisper a lot of soothing rubbish to her until she finally calms down and just hugs me, still shaking. I hold her close, not wanting to let go but knowing that I have to sooner or later. She pulls back first and looks straight into my eyes.

"Listen, Flint. I need you. You have to come home. I don't care what you have to do. Any means necessary, ok?" She looks so desperate that I could not disagree even if I wanted to.

"I will, Sammie. I'll come home." I say, reassuring her again.

"For me?" I nod. Anything for her. "Promise?" She says, almost aggressively.

"I promise." I say smiling. She smiles back and even laughs a bit. But it's a shaky, uncomfortable laugh. "For you, I'd do anything." Did I really just say that? Holy crap, I think I did.

"I'll be waiting for you." She says, then leans forward and kisses me. _Kisses_ me. Kisses _me_. It's beautiful and sad and wishful. An overwhelming combination that completely envelops me until the door bangs open and we jump apart. Stupid Capitol. Ruining everything!

"Time's up." Says the Peacekeeper almost apologetically.

"Wait." Says Sammie, looking at me, then back at the Peacekeeper. "Please?"

"Two minutes. I've got your family waiting." My family. I totally forgot.

"Here, I brought you a token." She says and pulls out a small charm on a black ribbon. Closer inspection tells me that it's the star that she tried to carve all that time ago. She presses it into my palm. "Remember what you said?" In all honesty I do remember, but I need to hear as much of her voice as possible before I enter the Arena. But I cock my head to the side as if I can't quite place the memory. "You said 'Confidence and motivation. That's all you need Sammie. Try again.' But I didn't try again because I was stubborn as hell." We laugh at that for a while. "But I need you to take your own advice, Flint. I can't live without you." She kisses me once more, it's sweet and urgent and probably the last we'll ever have, but I still manage to enjoy it somehow. And then she runs out, wiping her tears away.

My family is in next and it's relatively quiet compared to Mitchell and Sammie's visits. Callie crawls into my lap and cries, adding to the patch of tears that Sammie started, while my father sits next to me, silent tears running down his cheeks. No words are exchanged until the Peacekeeper comes in.

"I love you both. I'll be home soon." Neither of them says anything to that, they just nod and walk out.

Liggy-Mae comes for me then and I follow her out of the room and into the car that's waiting for us. Q's there already.

"I'm sorry Flint. About Sammie. About all of this." Yeah, right. Of course she is. But I'll play nice for now.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Q. None of this is your fault." I look at her and smile unconvincingly. But then I stop and narrow my eyes.

Something in her expression tells me that she's more responsible than she's letting on…

And I'll find out why.


	5. District 3 Reaping

_Hey, first, I'm sorry about the wait on this one, I've had an unbelievably hectic week between Business Studies exams and then French Controlled Assessments and guys being…well…guys. So, yeah, sorry about that. Secondly, please review – I had my first review this evening and I almost died of excitement *AWKWARD*. Thirdly, I'm not sure if you like this story but please follow it for a while and I promise it will get better. Finally, I'm trying to get the word count down a bit because I realise how tedious long chapters can be but you know. _

_Oh, and I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, it's 11:45pm here and I'm shit-tired but I promised myself that I'd update again today, so I did. And it's before midnight so it's still today._

_Bye _

**Chapter 4:** District 3, Reaping Day

_**Alessia "Ally" Monroe**_

__Reaping day. _Yay_. Like every year, I feel like slitting my wrists on this 'joyous' morning. Joyous? If it's such a great thing to kill children, then why not just take a gun into a Year 6 classroom and shoot them all? I bet the Capitolites wouldn't be happy about _that_, but how is that so different to the Games? You still end up with loads of dead kids.

I'm strongly opposed to the Hunger Games. I don't understand the attraction of watching 24 children battle it out, turning into complete savages in the process, and celebrate the one that comes home. I don't know about the _actual_ Victors, but I'd feel pretty damn miserable if that were me.

"Oi! Get your worthless ass down here NOW!" Oh, I love my Grandmother.

"Yes, sir!" I call back down. I'll pay for that later but I don't much care at the moment. I'm thinking about my parents. My selfless, adoring parents. My mother who woke me up with a cup of tea each morning to bring me round gently, rather than Gran, who just yells at me until I get out of bed. My father who, despite his many flaws, took the time to see me and ask me how my day was. That absolute _witch_ downstairs only talks to me when she needs me to help with her work. I'm only 15, surely this is child labour?

Both my parents are dead now. Murdered for talking badly about the Capitol. They were careless enough to get caught. I'm not. I guess that could be where I got my rebellious streak from.

Grandma runs the apothecary in town and says that I should be bloody grateful that she took me in. But I'm not. Apparently this is selfish, but I'd rather be starving in the Community Home than slaving away day after day for her.

"About time. How long did you keep me waiting?" She's stood at the bottom of the stairs, behind the counter. I guess we have no customers at the moment because she's nice to me when there's other people to see it.

"Whatever. As much as I _love_ you Grandma, the Reaping's today and I should probably get ready…" I say, unflinching when she strides towards me, hand raised. The bell on the front door rings and in walks Mr. Kennedy. He's the father of my best friend, April, and a frequent customer of ours. He is the Doctor for all the factory workers – the ones that usually get a finger lopped off in one of the machines or something – and he comes to my Grandmother to buy remedies and medicines.

"Good morning, Mr Kennedy, how are you faring this morning?" She passes off her raised hand by gently patting my cheek. I almost snarl at her. How dare she touch me?

"Yes. And how's April?" I ask, truly concerned.

"Actually, she asked me to ask you to come over when you can before the Reaping. I think she's a bit nervous…" I bet she is. Last year she almost had a melt down.

"I'll get ready now." I turn and run up the stairs shouting as I go, "Thank you, Mr Kennedy!"

I don't have time to wash more than my face this morning; I need to get to April. Now. I shove on whichever clothes I touch first and run downstairs, dragging my fingers through some of the knots in my hair. Mr Kennedy is still downstairs. They're talking about the price of beetle eyes when I dash around the counter and out the door. They completely ignore me.

In my haste, I crash into a tiny girl stood right outside the door but pay no attention to her. I don't even apologise. I'll feel bad about that later, but right now, April is my priority.

I run all the way to April's house. It's not far and she needs me now. I wrench open her front door and hurry in. Her house is pretty much my house after 6 years of friendship and anyway, she's probably in no state to answer the door.

"April! Dear God, April! Where are you?" I scream, tearing through her house. She's alone. I knew she would be. Her father is at my place and her mother died ages ago. I don't know what happened – she won't even talk to _me_ about it. I hear a sob from her kitchen and scurry towards it, finding her curled into a tiny ball under the table, wrapped in a bed sheet. I think she's finally snapped.

"Hey, April, honey, it's just me." She turns her heart-shaped face to me and it's like I'm looking in a mirror. She looks just like me. The same shoulder length black hair. The same wide, innocent, chocolate brown eyes. The same pale skin. The only difference is that I have these weird freckles across my nose. They're ugly and make me look dirty, but I don't care.

She sees that it's just me and throws her arms around my neck.

"Reaping day!" She wails.

"Yes, sweetie, its Reaping day, but there's nothing to worry about, you won't be picked. However, we do need to make you look presentable and get you to the Square or the Capitol won't be very happy with us. Will they?" I say calmly and patiently. I know how to deal with April after all these years.

"Ok. Will you stay?" She asks.

"Always, April." I say with a smile that feels forced by convinces her well enough.

With our combined efforts, she actually looks half-sane by the time we need to leave. There's still that crazy look in her eye, but as long as she is stood in her section for the duration of the Reaping, no one can complain. She's dressed in a white cotton sundress that matches mine and yellow sandals. I managed to tame her hair (God alone knows what she was doing with it before I arrived) and it falls to her shoulders in gentle waves. I clipped her fringe back with a large sunflower too, just to brighten up her face a bit. I sit next to her in the mirror and hug her.

"See? We're fine, aren't we? How about a smile?" She smiles half-heartedly and I realise that she is actually quite pretty, if you ignore her slumped shoulders and permanently bent spine. I smile too and put my face next to hers in the mirror. "Beautiful. Come on, we need to go."

She stands up from her stool and grasps my hand for dear life. I think she's losing it.

_**Christian "Chris" Foster**_

Oh my God. Reaping day. My first Reaping. I'm terrified. I won't lie.

I hate the Games, but there's nothing I can do about it, so I might as well get on with it and enjoy the day off, I suppose. Wait, what time is it? About an hour until the Reapings. Hmm. I wonder what woke me up so suddenly…

"Come on, Chris, out of bed or we'll be late and they'll probably shoot us or something." Says my brother, Nigel, shaking my shoulder to rouse me. I guess that's probably what woke me up, then.

"Morning Nigel. Wow, you need to shave." I say matter-of-factly, prodding his chin. He has his face about an inch from mine.

"Whatever, shorty. Get out of bed or Mum's going to skin you alive."

When I've woken up enough to walk down stairs without hurting myself, I join my family at the table. I think Nigel has shaved in the time it took me to wake up because his 14-year-old face is smoothy-smooth. Mum just looks worried, her forehead creased with concern. Dad is just sitting there as usual, eating and reading the paper, occasionally looking at the clock. Eventually, I think things are getting awkward so I break the silence.

"So… what are we doing after the Reaping?" Everyone looks at me with varied emotions. Pity. Worry. Stress. Overprotectiveness.

"I don't know." Says Dad calmly. "We'll just get through the Reaping first, eh? We don't want it to be like last year…"

One of my brother's friends went last year. We don't mention it – ever. It's the taboo topic in our house. I'm shocked that Dad even mentioned those Games in passing. There's silence for the rest of the meal and then I'm the first to stand.

"Well, considering that it is my first Reaping, I'm going to get dressed, and I'm meeting Annalise in about 20 minutes." Annalise. My one point of sanity in District 3. We go to school together and she's my best friend.

I leave the table and head to my room. I'm very tempted to just get back in bed and sleep the day away, but that would have terrible results for me and my family. Namely death and possible torture. I dress in a simple pale blue shirt and dark blue trousers then comb my hair thoroughly and head downstairs again.

Everyone is still sat at the table so I have to walk past them to get out the house.

"Goodbye Chris. I love you. Will we see you before the Reaping?" Mum says as I open the door.

"I'm not sure. Probably not, I want as much time as possible with Annalise." Although she's not eligible for the Reapings yet – she's just 11 – and there's nothing but friendship between us, I still worry about her. I know she'll be stressed today. Her brother is Nigel's age and he's been feeding their family of 4 with Tesserae for 3 years. He's got 15 entries this year. She'll be worried about him _and_ me this year, rather than just him.

"Sure. We'll see you after, then." Mum says with a smile, though I bet she's quaking inside.

Annalise is waiting in our usual meeting spot, just outside the apothecary. As I'm walking towards her, I see a skinny girl dart through the door and run straight into her, knocking Annalise to the floor. She sets off running again without so much as an 'I'm sorry. Are you ok?' Surely common courtesy demands some sort of apology if you knock someone over?

Speaking of which, Annalise is still on the floor, apparently winded and dusty.

"Annalise!" I say, running over to her. I'm not particularly fast, but I get there soon enough. "Annalise, are you ok?" I ask, offering her a hand up. She takes it and pulls herself up.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you, Chris." She looks after the preoccupied girl and sighs, brushing the dirt off her pink dress. "I'm sure she didn't notice…" That, right there, is one of Annalise's flaws. She always sees the best of people.

I pick a leaf out of her hair and smile at her, she smiles back and I notice how pretty she looks today. Her black hair waves down, way past her shoulder blades – almost to her waist – framing her ashen face, her dress finished just at her knee and she's wearing a pair of baby pink ballet pumps. Bless her beautiful heart.

"You look beautiful." I say to her. I've said it before and I'll say it again, there is nothing but friendship between us. However, I would not be fulfilling my friendship duties if I didn't tell her how incredible she often looks.

"Thank you. You don't look nice too, Chris."

"Thank you." There's a pause then we burst out laughing. I'm not sure why. Sometimes we just have these moments where everything is funny, even if it's not, even if we live in Panem, even if it's Reaping day…

Reaping day. Oops. I forgot.

"Come on, we should… get to the square…" I say grudgingly.

Neither of us wants today to happen, but if it must, we may as well get it out of the way.

_**Alessia "Ally" Monroe**_

__We find a space in our section and wait for the Reaping to begin. A couple of girls from our class at school giggle when April bursts into tears again but I just hug her and let her cry into my shoulder, giving the girls not-too-subtle evils as I look over her head. Finally, Freda Lewis, our completely delusional, foolish Escort walks onto stage in foot-tall shoes with 8 inch platforms on the soles.

"Welcome, welcome District 3!" She crows. I hate these Capitol people. Sick minded.

Just then, April gives a particularly loud sob. I mean really, _really_ loud – it takes even me by surprise. Freda just glares at her for a few seconds until I say:

"Sorry. She's a bit upset." Stating the blatantly obvious and dumbing it down for this Capitol tart. I hear a laugh echo around the crowd. They think I'm funny. Then I see, to my eternal embarrassment, that me and April are on every single screen around the Square, her sobbing uncontrollably into my shirt. Wow. My day just got a whole lot worse.

"Yes. Could you maybe keep her quiet for a few minutes?" Asks Freda in an irritated voice. Maybe I need to lay this out for her.

"Listen, Freda, you pick 2 children from this District to be taken to their deaths – I think you can handle a few tears." This takes everyone by surprise. _No one_ slates the Capitol in front of the entire Nation. Except me, obviously.

"Well, Miss…"

"Alessia Monroe."

"Well, Miss Monroe, maybe you could calm your friend down. Now." I decide it's probably best not to continue along this line on live television. And besides, I really do need to calm April down.

"Hey, April, listen to me honey." I whisper, so only she can hear me. We're still being filmed (I can see that man on the roof with his camera) but I don't much care. "April, you need to calm down, or the Peacekeepers will come and get us. April, _please_." She eventually listens to me and her sobbing dies to a continuous whimper. Still not perfect, but good enough for now.

"So, ladies first, as tradition dictates!" She hobbles over the Reaping Bowl and plunges her hand right to the bottom, groping around for _'that slip'_ as she called it last year. She grasps the tiny slip of card in her talons and walks back to the microphone. In this split second I make 3 decisions:

a) If it's April, I'm going to volunteer.

b) If it's me, I'm going to have some very colourful words to my Grandmother before I leave.

c) If it's neither me nor April, I am going to jump for joy. Damn it! I've tempted fate…

This is it. The second that every single part of my life could change. It's me. I know it's me. I can sense it. Oh my God. I'm going to die.

"Oh, well, maybe karma does exist after all. We appear to have a Capitol-hater as a Tribute. Alessia Monroe. Could you please join me on stage?"

_**Christian "Chris" Foster**_

__The girl that was sobbing earlier now screams. It's like her soul is being torn from her body. Maybe it is. Maybe Alessia Monroe is her best friend or her sister or something.

Now I can see Alessia rather than just hear her voice and I'm surprised. This strong-sounding girl with character, the 'Capitol-hater' as Freda so kindly put it, is nothing more than a pale, skinny girl with dark, lank hair. The girl who knocked Annalise over. Now, I believe in retribution, but nothing that Alessia has ever done could warrant this. She slithers out of the crazy girl's hug and marches onto stage, a determined look in her eye and not a tear in sight. I know that if that were me up there, I'd be bawling my eyes out, but I can almost see the fire in her spirit, the unbelievable strength of character.

"Well, Alessia Monroe. Who would have thought, eh?" It's clear that Freda does not like Alessia, its obvious just from her stance and her tone of voice.

"Call me Ally. It's the least you can do before you kill me." Replies Aless- sorry- Ally. You could hear a pin drop in the Square right now. Until the mayor speaks up and glosses over the whole situation.

"Well. Moving swiftly onto the boys Reaping, Freda…" Is all her says, but the tension is suddenly broken and a thousand tiny whispers break out. I even hear one nervous laugh. And loudest of all, Ally's friend starts howling again. Wow, she has a set of lungs.

"Yes, mayor. Most definitely." She trots to the boys' Reaping Bowl and I get the distinct feeling that she just wants to get this whole affair over with a soon as possible. "And the male Tribute of the 30th Annual Hunger Games is…" _Yes? Yes? Come on! _"Hmm, interesting name…" _Hurry up, Freda! Who is it? _

"Christian Foster!"

Me. That's who it is. Little Christian Foster with _one_ entry. Me. I hear a defiant scream from the back and I'm sure that it was Annalise. I expect that she's the only person in the District that would miss me enough to scream like that. Her and my parents and my brother.

My brother. I can imagine him volunteering to save me from this. Part of me (the selfish part) kind of hopes that he will, but the other part (the compassionate part) knows that it needs to be me who does this. I was chosen so I must accept my fate. With that thought, my muscles begin working again and my feet slowly carry me up onto stage. Ally smiles at me. I think it's meant to be reassuring but, to be honest, it looks a little tight and slightly angry. Why is she angry with me? No. Not me. The Capitol. It's bad enough that she was chosen to fight to the death, but the same fate for a 12 year old is unacceptable. Everyone agrees, but no one has the guts to do anything about it. Except maybe Ally, of course.

Now I look to the crowd, forcing a stupid little smile onto my face, like I don't really know what's going on. _Why is Nigel not volunteering?_ Says my selfish side. Then I see exactly why he's not volunteering. He's passed out. Straight onto the cobbled floor of the Town Square, surrounded by friends. He'll kill himself when he comes round. Seeing my cool, calm, composed brother lying on the floor with his tongue dangling out is really funny. So I laugh.

Ally stares at me and then starts laughing too. I don't think she knows what I'm laughing at (or maybe she does. Maybe she's telepathic.) But she's laughing anyway – and holding her hand up for a high five. I slap her outstretched hand, not quite knowing the reason, but humouring her anyway. I guess she's just happy that I'm taking such a light-hearted approach to this situation.

"Yes, well, frivolities aside, District 3, I give you your Tributes, Alessia Monroe and Christian Foster!" Everyone gives a very half-hearted attempt at applause, but then Ally gets the microphone again.

"It's Ally, all you Capitolites and District Slaves out there!" She amazes me, she really does.

We are hurried into the Justice Building, just to get Ally our of the public's eye I think, and taken to different rooms. She winks at me over her shoulder as we separate. I smile back. I like Ally.

I'm unceremoniously shoved onto the sofa and told that my family will be here soon. And they are – all tears and handkerchiefs and hugs. Really. I could probably cope with this situation if they weren't distraught by it. And, as expected, Nigel looks as though he wants to shoot himself.

"I'm so sorry, Chris, I don't know what happened! Do you think they'll let me take your place now?" He blurts out as soon as her enters the room.

"No. In all honesty, I'm fine with going. Take care of Mum and Dad and Annalise. Try to comfort her." I say. He has to take care of Annalise.

"I'll look after her like a sister. Try to come home won't you?" He says, gesturing at Mum and Dad who are both hugging me from either side and making it rather difficult to do anything.

"I'll try. But don't get your hopes up. I'm weak and I can't handle any weapons and I'm not fast – I can't even light a fire!"

"But you're intelligent! And anyway, what is the training time for, if not using weapons?" He says, as though this is the most obvious thing ever. I guess it is kind of obvious.

We talk some more about survival techniques, Mum and Dad contributing very little, until a Peacekeeper comes and tells them to get out and make way for the next mourner-to-be.

"Annalise." I say, when she comes in.

"Chris, what are you going to do? What if…" She chokes off with a small whine and I steer her towards the sofa, sitting her down and putting my arm around her.

"Don't worry about me." I tell her and she looks at me disbelievingly. "Honestly! I'll be fine." I smile but I suddenly feel so tired and the weariness must show in my face, because she tries to lighten the mood by pressing a finger to my forehead, right on my premature worry lines.

"Don't frown. The wind might change." This is an old joke of ours and, rather than making me feel better or happier or safer, it makes me yearn for all the times we laughed and had fun. So I start to cry. She cries with me. We cry together. Possibly for the last time.

She presses a rock into my palm and for a second I just stare at it. Then everything fits together.

"It's my lucky rock. The one you gave me. You told me it would bring me luck because of its shape." She says, tracing the edge of the rock. An almost perfect heart shape. "I guess you'll need this more than me now…" We sit together now, waiting for the final parting. I guess this calls for something special, so I swallow my pride and do it. I take her hand in mine and mentally prepare for this farewell gesture. Quickly, so I can't think it through too much, I press my lips to the back of her hand, and then hug her.

I don't care what anyone says, there's nothing but friendship between me and Annalise.


	6. District 4 Reaping

_Ok, believe me, I hate long chapters just as much as you do, but I love Poseidon very very much and could not find anywhere I was willing to take from. Also, I did pretty well to get it to this length (it was over 7,000 words before I started trimming. _

_Just a quick fact: My sister is called Cora. I'm really not looking forward to killing her. _

_The next chapter will be shorter, I promise._

_Byeee xx_

**Chapter 5:** District 4, Reaping Day

_**Corallina "Cora" Radcliffe, D4**_

__I groan. I've never been a morning person. I lie there for a few minutes, thinking of nothing specific but letting my mind wander from subject to subject, hoping to find something pleasant. Nothing springs to mind so I just accept that today will be bad and drag myself downstairs.

"Morning honey." Says my mother in her gentle, affectionate tone. I love Mum and I'm not afraid to admit it. Some of the children in the District think it's not 'cool' to confess love for family and parents, but I don't think they realise how much keeping a child can cost, both financially and emotionally.

"Morning, Mum." I say and kiss her cheek.

"I got this ready for you. Please try to look relatively clean." She says, sounding harsh, but the look on her face tells me that she's joking. I roll my eyes and shake my head, taking the basin from her and beginning to wash myself free from salt water.

In the end, I do look relatively clean. My brown hair is straight, my fringe falling down the side of my face framing it nicely. My skin is completely fresh and I'm wearing a beautiful sea green dress with a black bow around the middle. It used to be my mothers – the one she wore for the Reapings of the 5th Hunger Games. I'm now wearing it for the 30th.

It's weird thinking of my parents when they were younger. They were normal, average children. Apparently they knew each other since they were about 6. We have a picture of them together when they were about 10. And the most recent picture is of them on their wedding day, when they became husband and wife. Swash and Natalia Radcliffe.

I walk down the stairs to find the picture. I'm almost forgetting what my father looks like. He's not dead or anything, he's just away on a fishing trip at the moment. He owns one of the biggest boats in District 4, so naturally he's one of the more wealthy residents, but we still struggle sometimes.

"Honey? Are you ready?" Mum says from the kitchen.

"Yeah, just about. Where's that picture of Dad?" I call back.

"It should be somewhere in this dresser, in here." She replies and I hear her rummaging in the drawers. "Aha! Got it!" I walk quietly to the kitchen, startling her when she looks up. "You move too quietly."

"Thank you?" I say, making it a question. I reach for the picture.

"No, no. Look when we get back. Plenty of time for that later."

"But-!"

"No buts! Get out the door now, Little Miss Melancholy!" I laugh at that. I'm not melancholy, I just miss him… a lot… Ok, maybe I'm a bit melancholy.

Little Miss Melancholy. I kind of like it.

I follow my instructions and step onto the porch, closing the door behind me. I look at the sky, shielding my eyes from the glare. I didn't notice earlier, but there's a storm cloud coming in from over the sea. That can't mean anything good. Storms are a bad omen. It'll rain before midday.

I hear the door creak open slowly behind me and I guess that Crash is trying to sneak up on me. He often does this, but to no avail – I always hear him.

"Boo!" He shouts, grabbing my arms.

What a tool.

"Yep, I heard you again Crash. Too bad. You almost got there; it's just that the door squeaked again… you know how it does every time?" He thinks about this for a few seconds.

"Damn, I was meant to grease it after last time."

"Yeah. I kind of guessed as much." My stupid brother. What an idiot. "Anyway, we'd better get to the Square…"

We set off, arms linked. Whatever I say about Crash, he's still my brother and I still love him, despite his many, _many_ flaws.

_**Poseidon Tanner, D4**_

__"Po, breakfast is ready!" Mum calls. Po. What sort of a nickname is Po? If she ever calls me Po in front of my friends, particularly Egeria, I might actually kill her. Only if I did that, there would be no one to make breakfast. So I plod downstairs without a single comment.

"Morning." I grumble as I walk to the table where a plate of some sort of fish stew is waiting for me. I don't even like fish that much. I hate the smell and the texture and - eugh. Gross.

"Hello darling." _Darling?_ That's almost as bad as Po. "What are you planning on doing today? Anything special?"

"The same as every other day, I suppose. Fishing. School. Lunch. School. Fishing. Tea. Fishing." I say. She looks at me as if I'm mad. "What?" I ask, angrily.

"Honey… The… The Reapings…" Reapings? I look at the calendar, then the clock, and then at Mum. Oh no. It's Reaping day. I totally forgot. _Oh no!_ I only have 20 minutes until the ceremony starts. And my hair always takes forever.

I abandon the plate of fish before me and run from the kitchen shouting: "No, nothing special!" in a jokey tone over my shoulder. I hear her laugh and I can only hope she's laughing with me not at me. This is such a joke! I can't believe I forgot!

"Hey, Poseidon." Says my 19 year old sister, Kara, walking into my room without knocking and sitting on my bed.

"Hey, Kara. How are you? Great! Me too! Ok, enough niceties, get out, I'm trying to get ready for the Reaping." She just laughs at me because I'm stood in from of the mirror comparing two outfits and trying to muss up my hair at the same time. "Alright, whatever!" I yell at her and she skips out, still laughing.

I'm finally ready for the Reaping, dressed in a smart black suit with a blue tie, my hair carefully ruffled and looking fresh. I wink at myself in the mirror and hear a snigger behind me. Egeria has arrived.

"Hey, handsome." She says, still smirking at me.

"Hey, Egeria. How's life this fine morning?"

"Oh, all the better for seeing you, Poseidon." She says, laughing. "Are you happy with your appearance?" I shrug my shoulders then nod. "Well then I think you need a trip to the opticians. Oooh, burn."

"Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt." I say, using some quote that I remember from school. It's perfect for Egeria. Her lips were definitely made for kissing. I've sampled her talents on several occasions.

"Wow. Such intelligence. Your intellect astounds me, gorgeous."

"You astound me in other ways, sexy." I wink.

"Hmm... Anyway, are you ready to go?" She asks, not quite all the traces of levity gone from her face. There's still that spark in there that warns me I'm about to be teased again.

"Yeah, I'm ready for anything." She stands up and walks over to me slowly. I think that this is my lucky day and she'll kiss me again but-

"Ow! What the bloody hell was that for?" I shout at her. She literally just punched me in the face. She's a coward though. She hit me then danced out of my reach so I couldn't retaliate. That little snake!

"I thought you were ready for anything. My God, I hope you don't get Reaped. If you can't see a simple punch coming, what would you do if someone was about to stab you?" She giggles. "What were you expecting?"

I open my mouth, about to say 'Actually, I thought you were about to snog me.' but I think better of it, closing my mouth and shrugging. She shakes her head at me.

Oh my God. She's walking over to me again; I'm ready this time and flinch away as she raises her hand to my face.

She just laughs at me. "I wasn't going to punch you that time, in fact."

"What were you doing then?" I say, stepping back towards her.

I get no verbal answer, she just lifts her hand to my face, smiling when I don't flinch, and kisses me. So I did get my kiss after all. I place one hand on the small of her back, pressing her to me and wrap the other one in her long, dark hair. Now that she knows she isn't going to be rejected, she throws herself into the kiss a little more, opening her mouth and tracing my lips with her tongue. Wow. That's one hell of a talent she has right there.

As this is by no means my first kiss with her, I know what will drive her crazy. I graze my teeth against her lips and smile in triumph as she moans. But I can't smile anymore as my mouth is suddenly very busy again.

She pulls me by the lapels to my bed and we fall onto it. This is new. This is a completely different part of our kiss. We've never involved props before, just me and her in a whirlwind of passion but without the commitment of a relationship. She pulls me over so that I'm on top of her but she does it in such a way that our kiss isn't broken, it just gets more fiery. I'm now in some foreign sexual territory, completely up the creek without a paddle. What the hell do I do now? _Just go with it, Poseidon! Enjoy it while you can! _Says the sensible part of my brain. Yes. That's what I'll do. No commitment, just enjoyment.

It goes on and on, me waiting for her to break the kiss and her waiting for me to finish it. I'm not leaving this heaven voluntarily, so she'll have to do the honours.

In the end, it's neither of us. It's that stupid-ass sister of mine. Kara couldn't even let me have this one thing.

"Aww. I knew there was something going on. You see, I'm not so stupid am I Poseidon?" I get off Egeria and sit next to her instead. My heart rate is still elevated and I wonder if Kara can hear my accelerated breathing. I really, _really_ hope not. It's awkward for a few seconds but then she gets up and walks out the door. What the hell? She didn't even have a good reason to be invading my personal space! "So… I'll leave you two alone, shall I?" She says. "Erm…" She laughs awkwardly then smirks. "Stay safe." And she runs out the room guffawing like a fool.

_Stay safe._ The _exact_ thing that I want to hear after my first trip down this road. My _dear_ sister with her constant wisdom. _Not_.

"Well, the Reaping…" I say after a few second of tension with Egeria.

"I don't care." And she kisses me again. This time we stay sat up because we both know that we really do have to go soon.

Next it's my mum who turns up at my door bothering me.

"Po…seidon…" She almost used my nickname. In the middle of my kiss with the very girl that I've wanted for years. "It's time to go… Sorry."

Me and Egeria stand up and walk to the door, but she stops me halfway there and spins me to her. She hands go to my collar and she takes my tie off me. This is going a bit far with my mother here. But she doesn't mean it in that way; she simply puts the tie neatly back on its rack in my wardrobe and brings out a kind of paprika coloured one instead. She ties it around my neck and steps back, admiring her work.

"Much better." And with that she walks past me, down the stairs and out the door. "Hurry up, we'll be late!" She yells back over her shoulder. I look in the mirror and find that the paprika really does look better than the blue. She should take this up for a living.

_**Corallina "Cora" Radcliffe, D4**_

The Square is already packed by the time me and Crash arrive. We split off to our different sections with a final 'good luck' and I meet my friend, Nikki right by the aisle, where she always is.

"Good morning, Cora." She says politely. She's always so formal, it makes me nervous.

"Hey, Nikki." I say, desperately trying to lighten the mood. I know that she can be fun when she wants to be, but a Reaping probably isn't the best time for that anyway. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you, and you?"

"Yeah, same. Good as I can get, you know…" I gesture around at the Square all decked out in Capitol colours. She murmurs agreement. "Have you seen Felicity yet today?" I ask. Felicity is a year younger than us so she can't stand with us at Reapings, but she's my best friend. I get along better with Felicity than Nikki. It might just be because she actually tries to make a tense environment less so, rather than just accepting it as it is like Nikki does.

"Yes I have." I see her double take something on the stage but I don't care much because it's probably just Yuka Hilandi, our escort. Nikki just stares, he mouth wide open in shock and amusement.

"How was she…?" I ask, pressing her for those much needed details.

"Oh wow." She mutters, not paying any attention to me but still staring at the stage. I glance around, deciding if this is more important than our best friend's sanity.

Wow. There's no other word for it than wow. His hair is bright, electric blue which would be crazy on its own, but his suit and lips and eyes and shoes – his entire outfit, is the same colour. Wow. He looks ridiculous. It's like he's some sort of macaw – he just needs the beak and feathers, now.

"Wow." I say.

"My sentiments exactly." Says Nikki, and we both just stare at the stage, mouths agape and eyes wide. Then he looks at the District assembled below him and laughs awkwardly as he takes in hundreds of people staring unashamedly at him.

"Well, good morning District 4! Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!" Yeah, obviously. That stupid Hunger Games slogan. Like the odds are ever going to be in our favour. "Now, we all know why we're here so we'll get straight on, after a short poetry reading. I wrote you a poem, District 4!" Silence. "Well… yes…" He clears his throat and begins.

It goes on…and on….and on… about 10 minutes later, he makes one of the least tasteful statements that I've ever heard:

"Once the Tributes have all gone in, we shall declare 'Let the Games begin!'" He looks around, as if looking for someone to applaud his efforts. I think most of the crowd are falling asleep. I nudge Nikki, whose eyes have gone slightly unfocused, and she jerks back to life, nearly bringing her hands together, but I stop her. It's not her fault – she didn't hear it – but she can't applaud tasteless jokes like that. They actually see it as a game in the Capitol. This has never been clearer to me. They look forward to the deaths of children. They are insane.

"Well then." He sniffs, managing to make the simple act seem snobby. "Moving swiftly on…" And he strides over to the girls' Reaping Bowl, picks out a slip quickly and marches back over to the microphone. Everyone around me stiffens and I know we're all thinking the same: _'Please, not me.'_

"Felicity Backwash!" Felicity. _My_ Felicity. My best friend, Felicity. No. She can't go, she's feeble! Obviously in the nicest sense of the word, but still feeble!

I raise my hand. I cannot believe I'm doing this. Crash will kill me.

"I volunteer." I say, but it's too quiet. Only a few people around me hear me and they turn to stare, looking at me like I'm crazy.

"Are you stupid, Cora?" Nikki whispers in a tiny, but furious voice.

"Yes." I say. I think I am. I step into the aisle and seeing that Felicity has already started the walk to the stage, her long red hair blowing in the breeze, I start to jog. "Me!" I shout at the top of my lungs. "I volunteer!"

"No!" She whispers as I draw level with her. "You can't do this. Your family needs you more than mine need me." No way. She's not playing that card.

"I'll get there first, that will seal the deal." I start to sprint. She cannot get there first. I hear her feet pounding the ground but there's no way she'll beat me. I've always been way faster than her. I reach the stage and take the steps two at a time. I won. I was first here.

The look on Felicity's face is one of severe distress and self-loathing. I know what she's thinking; if she'd have been faster then I wouldn't be off to my death. But I would have found a way to get her off this stage and take her place. She reminds me of a puppy that's just been kicked. I look at Yuka instead.

"And what's your name, Miss?" _Little Miss Melancholy._ I almost say. Oh, I'd love to see his face if he got an answer like that. But I must behave – I need the sponsors if I'm going to survive.

"Hi, I'm Cora Radcliffe." I shake his hand good naturedly and smile at the crowd.

He just stares at me as if I remind him of someone he once knew.

"So… The male Reaping…?" I say, gesturing at the bowl to my left.

"Yes, of course…" He says.

_**Poseidon Tanner, D4**_

__"Yes, of course…" He says. He walks over to the Reaping Bowl. I know that I'm relatively safe. There are hundreds of children here with tesserae, but I've never needed it because both me and Kara have jobs that pay pretty well. However, there's always that slim chance. About the same chance as me and Egeria ever getting serious. This analogy makes me feel 100 times better about the situation. It's 1 in a million.

"Poseidon Tanner!" Hmm. Maybe Egeria and I will get serious. But a pessimistic voice speaks in the back of my head: _"Don't be stupid, Poseidon, you'll have to win for that to happen and you won't win. You aren't intelligent enough for victory here. You're too weak. You'll have to kill and we all know that you can't do that… too scared…"_

Next thing I know, I'm stood next to Yuka and Cora on stage, with nearly no recollection of how I got there. That's odd. Oh well, that's the least of my worries right now.

"Poseidon Tanner?"

I roll my eyes and look at the clouds. They're a deep gray right overhead. As I'm staring, I feel a single drop land on my arm. I can tell that this is going to turn into a storm – it's something you pick up if you live your entire life in District 4.

"I am he. Shall we go in? I sense a storm brewing." I'm aiming to sound mysterious, but I sound ridiculous even to myself.

"Indeed."

"Goodbye, District 4. I'll probably never see you again." I say, smiling and waving. And that's when I see Egeria. She's still stood there, in the middle of the 13 section, while everyone moves around her. Her friend – Lucy or something – is tugging at her arm, but she's not moving, she's staring at me, tears streaming down her face. Oh Egeria. I tilt my head towards the Justice Building and she nods. That's good, she's going to come and see me in a minute.

I hate seeing her so upset. It's brings out the over-protective side of me. I've only felt it this strong once before, and that was when her first boyfriend dumped her. She came to see me in the middle of the night and cried onto my shirt for hours. The next morning I found him and beat him up. I've hardly ever felt as good as I did then. I protected her from the pain… I can't do that now.

Again, I find myself in a luxurious, Capitol-style room with no idea of how I got there. I don't care though, as long as I don't forget things from now on. I need to remember all of my training time, everything I say in the interviews and I _definitely_ need to be sane for the duration of the Games.

Egeria comes in first. She walks in rather awkwardly until she's right in front of me. She's obviously been crying, but I don't draw attention to it. She kisses me once on the lips. It's not anything like it was before. Earlier in my bedroom it was passionate and fiery but now it's sweet and tender. I'm not sure which I prefer.

"Do you want me to be funny and optimistic or can I cry?" I feel bad that she asked that. She's hiding her true emotions to make me feel better about my horrible situation. If you can call almost certain death a 'situation'.

"You can cry, beautiful." I say.

She does as I say and starts sobbing hysterically. How the hell did she hold this in? I'm startled by the sudden outburst of emotion. "Shh, Egeria, please don't cry, you're making me feel guilty." She just carries on. I'm not sure if this is her stubborn streak making an appearance or if she cannot physically stop. She steps back and slaps me. What the hell? I'm about to go into the Arena and fight for my life and she's stood here slapping me! Where is the freaking justice? She points her dainty index finger at me and glares.

"Be ready for anything! You hear me? And forget everything I said this morning, you _CAN_ win this. You _WILL_ win this. You have to come home!" I'm actually quite scared by the intensity in her eyes, but the effect is marred slightly by the sudden reappearance of tears.

"Ow." I say, because it seems like the best response. "Bloody hell."

She steps towards me and I flinch again.

"I wish you'd stop flinching whenever I come near you." She says like a sulky child.

"Can you blame me?" I say gesturing to my cheek, but softening it with a smile. I step forward, bridging the gap between us, and hug her, letting her cry her heart out onto my shirt. Eventually her uncontrollable weeping calms down until I hear no noise at all. She leans back and I narrow my eyes slightly, anticipating the blow but not having the heart to restrain her with force. She rolls her eyes and for a moment, I see the emotionally stable, sarcastic teenager that was in my room this morning. Again, like this morning she kisses me. Once on the cheek (a tiny peck as if to say sorry I slapped you, here I'll make it better) but then she gives me another kiss, almost exactly the same as earlier. The room spins and it's just me and her. We're all that matter for the moment.

Except she pulls back far too early, I nudge my lips forward, searching for her again, but she presses her finger to my lips instead. I open my eyes and sigh. She's staring at me, almost amused but my persistence.

"I thought we weren't serious." She says.

"I've not got anything to lose." I shrug.

"Hmm…" She says in a disapproving tone, her forehead creased with worry. "Anyway… do you have a suitable token?"

"Yeah. I have the cork." The cork. Her cork, my cork… _our_ cork. She found it on the beach then gave it to me as a birthday present last year. Apparently she was short of cash. I didn't care much. Birthday presents mean less than nothing to me, but this one was special – at least she found something she could give me.

"Cool. Then you're ready to go." She says certainly.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready." I whisper, showing a hint of underlying vulnerability.

"You don't have a choice." She says. Wow. That was blunt.

"But…" But what? But I'm scared? There's no way I'm saying that. But I don't want to leave you alone? That would only earn me another slap. But… but there's no choice. She's right. Damn, that's annoying. "You're right."

"I know." She says smugly.

Then I do something that I've never done before. I lean in to start the kiss. This is the first time that I've taken control. It's always her.

But she takes to it pretty damn well and kisses me back with vigour, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling. I let my hands explore her torso, waiting for the moment that I go too far and she breaks our final kiss, but that time doesn't come. We just keep going, getting more and more into it and more and more oblivious to our surroundings. It's only when the Peacekeeper starts shouting my name that I listen to him.

"Ok, ok. I'm coming." I say coolly, feeling as though I've taken too much sleep syrup.

"Poseidon." Says Egeria. I turn back to her. She kisses me once more, a tiny, timid kiss on my cheek. "Try to come home." And she walks calmly out the room.

_'Try to come home.'_

That will become my life motto. Especially if she's what I have waiting for me back home.


	7. District 5 Reaping

_I apologise if the wait for this chapter was too long. Me and my father have acquired a family of baby bluetits. They were living in our bird box (we have one of those camera bird box things) but their parents were both killed by cats yesterday so, being a good Samaritan, I took them in and they take so much time. Honestly. But they're SO cute._

_Anyway, I wasn't sure how to portray the disorienting nature of Aidan's 'episodes', but I tried my best and this one is a lot shorter than the last one. Please review – reviews are my best friends. _

_Byeee :) _

**Chapter 6:** District 5, Reaping Day

_**Phoebe "Fee" Electra, D5**_

Yay, Reaping day. I love Reapings, not because of the children who are going to die, but because we get the day off school and I love how they decorate the square. The black and white flag of the Capitol looks good against the silver of the power plants and the Justice Building. Most people think I'm silly for taking this view, but the only other option is being so scared that you can't make the best of it. And where's the fun in that?

And anyway, I'm only 11, so I'm not eligible…

Wait… No. That's wrong.

"Happy birthday, Fee!" Says Mummy, walking into the room holding a small parcel. Well, on the bright side, it's my birthday and I'm 12 years old, nearly a grown woman. But on the not-so-bright side, it's my birthday and I'm 12 years old. That means that in the Capitol's eyes I'm ready to fight for my life. This will be my first Reaping and the day suddenly seems a lot less happy.

"Mummy, I'm scared," are the first words that I blurt out. She sits on the side of my bed and holds my hand.

"Sweetie, don't be frightened. You're about as safe as you can get! No tesserae and only 12. You only have one entry. You'll be fine. Think of the older children with extra entries!" She says, trying to reassure me. It's not working, because a) she's wrong – I did take tesserae and b) I don't think anything could comfort me this morning. So I burst into tears.

"Mummy. I'm s-s-sorry!" She look confused but leans forward to hug me anyway.

"Fee? What are you sorry about?" I don't answer her. I'm not sure how to tell her that her baby girl definitely could go off to death this year and the chances of that are higher than she thinks. "…Fee…? Sweetie, what's happened?" She pulls away and holds my face in her hands, gazing into my eyes. She has such pretty eyes – they're a vivid, almost neon green and she has the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. I inherited my Daddy's eyes. My silly, mean Daddy.

"I-I, oh, Mummy!" I wail. I shouldn't be so upset by this, I knew the risks of taking tesserae but Mummy looked so thin and I knew she was giving me more at tea time. "I…I… I took tesserae…"

She looks as scared as me for a moment but then relaxes.

"You can't have done, Fee, you have to be 12 to take tesserae," she says, smiling and stroking my cheek. But I did take it.

"I did… the kind lady Peacekeeper at the Justice Building told me I could have it a week early if I had the tesserae entries and then doubled them in my first Reaping." Her eyes flood with tears and a single one falls down her cheek. Seeing her crying makes me even more sad and I begin to sob again. What have I done to Mummy?

"You have… 6… entries…" She says slowly. I nod and feel my bottom lip quivering again. "You silly, silly girl. How could you?" She says, angry but not shouting, not even raising her voice.

"You were so thin! And I didn't like that you had to go to bed hungry because you gave me more. I'm sorry, Mummy. I thought it would be ok!" I'm still sobbing and my words come out muffled. She seems calmer now. I'm no sure what she's thinking, but it must be reassuring thoughts.

"Ok. It's still unlikely to be you who's chosen, honey." I think it through and she's right. I know a lot of people who take tesserae and they take more than me. I know a girl with 20 entries.

"I'm sorry, Mummy." She kisses my forehead and wipes away some of my tears.

"It's ok, Fee. We'll be fine." She reaches to my bedside table and picks up the small package. "Happy birthday, my beautiful baby girl."

I take the present with a small smile and carefully separate the brown paper from the fragile gift. I'm not sure what to say in response to this beautiful present, so I make do with examining it very carefully. It's a metal hair accessory – I think they're called hair combs – with a large, azure blue butterfly carefully attached to it. It's so pretty. And it's just my colour, the exact same as my eyes.

"It's so pretty. Thank you, Mummy." I don't ask her where she got it; I know she wouldn't tell me.

"I figured that my little girl is grown up, so she deserves a grown up present. I thought you could wear it for the Reaping. It will look beautiful in your hair." She says, tucking a stray blonde lock behind my ear. I smile and she smiles back. I know she's still thinking about my tesserae, but we don't bring it up again. "Let's get you ready, eh? We don't want to follow in Daddy's footsteps."

She's got that right. Daddy was horrible to Mummy when they were younger. Mummy told me all about it and begged me not to make her mistakes – yes, she calls Daddy her big mistake, and me the silver lining. Apparently they were sweethearts at school and they were desperately in love and they communicated their affections in 'adult ways'. She says we can have that conversation another time. The adult ways produced me and while I was still inside Mummy, Daddy left her, saying that he was too young to cope with a child, but she was just as young as him – they were 15 and in the same year at school – and she didn't have a choice. She says that I was the best thing that ever happened to her.

I only met Daddy once when I was 6 and he decided he did want a child after all, but on the night of our first meeting he went out drinking and insulted a Peacekeeper. Mummy said they took him to the Capitol and punished him for everything he ever did wrong and turned him into an 'Avox'. I have never known what an Avox is, but Mummy says that he can't seduce a woman with words anymore. Whatever that means.

Mummy is already ready for the Reaping, dressed in a pretty, simple, black dress and black shoes. Her blonde hair is tied back in a simple pony tail. She says she dressed in simple clothes because she didn't want to take any attention from me on my birthday.

She tells me to sit on the stool in front of the mirror and begins to style my hair into an elegant up-do, twisting it into a sleek bun and sliding the hair comb into the knot. She was right. It looks good in my hair. Next, she brings out a pretty dress in the same blue colour and helps me put it on, careful not to ruffle my hair. The shoes are last, simple shoes with a ½ inch heel and a buckle to hold them on my feet. They are white.

"You look beautiful, Fee. Absolutely stunning." She says, tears in her eyes again. I'm not sure if she's crying about the tesserae thing or how I look or if it's a normal thing on Reaping Day. Instead of trying to work it out, I just kiss her cheek and gently hug her. She pats my back and kisses the top of my head.

"Let's get this over with then, sweetie." We hold hands and walk out the door of our 2 roomed, broken down shack. It's all we need to survive so it'll do. We don't need a fancy house and big gardens to be happy – we have each other.

_**Aidan Gray, D5**_

I drag my feet as I walk to the Square, pulling Suzie along by her hand. She says that she's too old to be holding hands with her brother, but 13 isn't that old and it's Reaping Day. Even Suzie accepts that Reaping Day has its own rules. Life kind of sucks for us. Living in the Community Home, no family, no friends because we're the 'creepy kids'. We wouldn't be creepy but we both inherited a mental problem that means we drift off (mentally, not physically, obviously) at random points in time and come back with no recollection of what just happened. It's sad because Suzie and I would both be happy, friendly people otherwise. We still _are_ happy friendly people when we're together, but nobody else sees that side of us because they don't give us the chance.

"Aidan… you're embarrassing me…" She says quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself.

"Really?" I say. I couldn't care less today; I do everything I can to stop Suzie from being Reaped, but there's always a very slim chance that she could go to die. And I'm terrified of that possibility. I'd rather it was me than her. That's how much I love my little sister.

…

The next thing I know, I'm stood at the entrance to the Town Square, waiting to be registered and signed in. Damn. I wish these episodes would just stop! It's so inconvenient! They prick my finger to take my blood and point me towards a section with all the other 16 year old boys. I start to walk down the aisle but pause, wait for Suzie and we continue walking together.

"Bye bye, Suzie, good luck." In a surprisingly emotional turn of events, she hugs me briefly around the waist then runs off to the girls' section. I continue into my area, where the rest of the boys avoid me like the plague. Puh-_lease_. It's not exactly as if it's contagious.

…

_Stop fading out, Aidan. Concentrate._

Golly Gush, our rather feminine escort, starts his rant about how incredible the Capitol is and how we all owe them our lives and all this other rubbish that everyone stopped listening to about 29 years ago. Then it's onto the part of the Reaping that we all care about. The picking of the Tributes.

He walks over to the Reaping Bowl. _The tension is unbearable. _His shoes are clicking_. Is he actually wearing high heels?_ He dips his hand in. _This is it._ He's unfolding the paper… _Please, please, not Suzie!_

"Phoebe Electra!"

_Yes._

_**Phoebe "Fee" Electra, D5**_

_No!_

I only had 6 entries! So many people have more than me! This is impossible!

"Fee! No, my baby! My little girl!" Mummy screams from the crowd. But I know what has to be done. I have to die. I start walking to the stage and I realise how small I am. Even the other 12 year olds are at least 4 inches taller than me. I'm at the steps now, and they're so big! They come half way up my shins. I stand next to Golly in his silly high heels and his blue dinner jacket. He holds out his hand for me to shake and his hand swallows mine. He gives me a reassuring smile and I actually feel better. At least he kind of cares about me. He'll protect me. I shuffle closer to him, looking for his protection and he puts his arm around my shoulder. I think he actually cares. Maybe the whole nation will love me, just because I'm so young.

"Hello Phoebe." He says in a gentle tone that's very different from his other voice, when he's picking Tributes.

"Hello, Mister Gush. Please call me Fee." I say, smiling at him tentatively.

"Of course, Fee. And call me Golly."

"Hello, Golly." I reply, beaming at him. I'm starting to like Golly.

"Shall we crack on?" He asks me. I nod eagerly. "Ok, just stand here, Fee." He lets me go and pats my shoulder. I think I can stand straight… Yes. Just about. _Just don't think about the situation, Fee, and you won't cry._

My new best friend is digging around in the Reaping Bowl. I don't know how he knows he's got the right one, but eventually he plucks out a slip and unfolds it.

"Aidan Gray!"

I'm almost deafened. And scared by the sudden noises. Some surprise me. The first thing I hear is a kind of choking noise from the 13 year old section. I find the source. It's a girl with mousy brown, lank, shoulder length hair. The next is a laugh from the 16 year old boys' section. I'm not sure why they're laughing, it's not funny that he's probably going to die. The next noise is Golly shouting the name again and Peacekeepers moving in to pull the boy to the stage. When he finally arrives, he's got a blank look in his eyes that tells me that he's not completely sane and he's got the same colour hair as the choking girl. Maybe they're related. I wonder why none of his other family is crying.

He is yanked onto stage at last and he seems to come back from whatever dream land he was in. He looks completely startled, like a rabbit in the headlights. I'm confused. I'm not sure what I'm meant to be doing, so I just hold out my hand, smiling at him slightly.

_**Aidan Gray**_

That poor little girl holds out her hand for me to shake. She looks kind of worried (about me or her own safety, I'm not sure) so I take it and squeeze it reassuringly. Wow, things have gone downhill. Just a few seconds ago, I was feeling the relief of Suzie's safety and now, apparently _I'M_ going into the Arena. How did this happen?

Golly holds out his hand as well and I shake his too. We're then 'escorted' (pushed and shoved) into the Justice Building, where I find a sobbing Suzie waiting for me along with our Dorm Mistress, Mrs Cannery.

"Aidan!" Suzie whimpers, in between two enormous cries. She then throws herself at me, knocking us both to the ground.

"Hey, Suzie…" I coo, stroking her hair, trying to calm her down. "Mrs Cannery, please look after her. I know she has her moments, but none of us are perfect."

"I will, Aidan. I promise." Hmm. I've never trusted Mrs Cannery – she used to hit us when we were little, but she says that was a drinking problem – but she sounds honest and caring this time. I can't be bothered to argue with her over this. She'll either look after Suzie or she won't.

"Aidan. We'll run. We can go, now, if we're quick!" Uh-oh.

"Don't talk like that, Suzie. You'll get in trouble. It's ok. I'll come home." Mrs Cannery raises her eyebrows at me over Suzie's shoulder and I return the look. She means: _'You won't come home. You're weak and slow and foolish.' _I mean: _'Butt out. If this helps her through the Games, I'll say whatever I want.'_

"Excuse me, Aidan." I look around, wondering who in this District could be polite to me. Golly Gush, our clueless escort.

"Hello…" I say, unsure why he would be kind and considerate to me, when not even my classmates do that.

"I'm afraid it's time to go, could you say your last goodbyes and we'll go to the train?" He says, softening the instruction with a question mark. He walks out, smiling sadly, with his shoes clicking softly on the marble floor. I take Suzie's face in my hands.

"Suzie, I have to go now, sweetie. Stay safe, okay?"

"I'll try, Aidan. I'll try." I know she's holding back tears to help me and it makes me feel guilty. I push all my feelings to the back of my head and grin at her.

"I'll be back soon. Go on, now." I say, pushing her gently towards the door. She walks out.

"Aidan." Mrs Cannery says. "Your father left this in my possession before he died. It's time it was returned to you. Use it well." She holds out a small metal pipe. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to 'use it well', but I take it anyway, it was my father's, and she wants me to have it for the Games.

"Thank you, Mrs Cannery. I appreciate everything you've done for me and Suzie over the last 10 years." That's my formal goodbye.

"Of course, Aidan. It's my job." She smiles. That's a first. Smiling? Mrs Cannery? Wow. "Goodbye. You've been like a son to me." And then she, too, is gone. I'm alone. Until…

"Ready Aidan?" Say Golly, poking his head around the door. What a silly question.

"Born ready." I laugh.

I've never been less ready.


	8. District 6 Reaping

_Hello :) _

_I've been writing this chapter in between feeding chicks, revising for exams and sleeping, so I apologise for any errors/typos. I'm not sure how I'm going to kill all these Tributes – I've got somewhat attached to all of them._

_We all want a guy like Allan, right? Oh well. Lucky February. _

_Byeee :)_

**Chapter 7:** District 6, Reaping Day

_**February McKinley, D6**_

The boys stare as I walk past. Part of me wishes they'd stop because it's very wearing when everywhere you go, you're being watched. But the other part of me knows that if they stopped, my ego would fall right through the cracks in the floor. No. It's good that they stare – it's flattering. One form of admiration that I don't appreciate, however, if wolf whistling. What am I meant to do to that? Leap into their arms? I don't think so.

I shouldn't like any sort of attention from the boys because I have my incredible boyfriend, Allan. He's quite good looking. He's got this really light blonde hair that shines in the sunlight and his dark brown eyes twinkle. He's quite good looking, but I've seen better. What I can safely say is that he's the kindest, sweetest boyfriend that any girl could have. He's _mine_.

"Hey, February!" Ah, speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.

"Allan," I say, holding out my hand. He takes it and we carry on walking.

"Where are we going?" He asks after a few minutes of aimless rambling.

"Nowhere in particular, just… anywhere." I say. Truth is we have some problems in our house at the moment. Namely my step father being a tosser. Dad died 4 years ago, when I was 11 (he had some disease, sorry there's no heart breaking story to go with that). Mum didn't seem that broken up about it actually, which was a major cause for concern in our house. We thought she'd gone mad from grief or she'd gone into shock and wasn't entirely sure what had happened. Then we found out about the affair.

Mum had been seeing this guy for about 4 months – since we found out Dad was ill. She'd started shopping for a new husband before Dad had even died. How sick is that? We all thought it was just a phase that she was going through, but then they got engaged. Just_ 8 months_ after Dad's death. What was worse was that Derren, my step father, was drunk and abusive almost 24/7. Mum thought she could change him so we all let him stay. So how come 3 years later, I'm still being driven out of my house because of him?

"Oh." Says Allan. He knows the situation inside out. He's the one I rant to when Derren pushes me over the edge. "Let me see." I unbutton my shirt to my belly button and show him the freshly blossoming bruises all over my chest and stomach. He runs his hand over them, his fingers tickling me with butterfly wings. How is he so gentle? It doesn't even hurt. "Well, nothing's broken, the bruises will fade."

"At least he didn't get my face this time." He hit me right in the eye last time and I had a bruise for days. It was so embarrassing.

"February, this can't go on. I can't let it." He ignores my attempt at humour and reels off his arguments one by one. This happens every time he sees my bruises. I always tell him to wait, to not tell the Peacekeepers yet because he might stop soon. I don't know why I don't just tell someone with authority about it, but every time I try, I just chicken out. I don't know why. I have this weird feeling that maybe soon I'll be free of him and I won't have to put up with it anymore. I'll be safe.

"At least wait until after the Reaping." I say. I can't believe I just used the Reaping as an excuse, but delaying tactics seem to work with Allan.

"Hmm." He says, buttoning my shirt up and kissing my cheek. I love Allan. Most guys would take advantage of a girl stood in front of them with her shirt undone, but Allan respects me and a lot of boys (wolf whistlers) could learn a very important lesson from him. He finishes and pulls me into a hug. I love the way he smells. He smells like metal and oil, but with some apple thrown in there. I don't know how he manages that, but when I smell that combination, I feel like I'm home. Safe.

"Are you ready for the Reaping?" He says. Only Allan could see me first thing in the morning, hair not even combed, face unwashed, still in my slob clothes and think I was ready to be seen by the Capitol.

"Not yet, I need to brave the mad house for clothes." I try to sound flippant about it, but my voice catches when I realise that it's true. I need to go home, wash, get dressed and make myself presentable with Derren throwing punches at me.

"Get your clothes then you can get ready at my house." My saviour. I kiss him on the cheek and we speed walk back to my house. "Do you want me to come in?" He says. I often wonder if he wants to come in and give Derren a taste of his own medicine or if he feels obliged to offer. Either way, he doesn't need to see me fighting tooth and claw to get to my wardrobe.

"Stay here. I might have to come out the window." I gesture upwards where my bedroom window is, with a conveniently placed trellis down the wall below it.

"Stay safe." I smile at him. I'm so lucky to have him.

With a final kiss on his cheek, I push the door and the house explodes with noise. First I hear my sister screaming. Running into the living room, I see January stuck in a corner with Derren punching her everywhere he can reach. Hell no. He can hurt me, but not January. I run across the room and leap onto his back, pulling him away from her, giving her enough time to dash out of the room and bolt her bedroom door.

"How dare you hurt her? In _our_ house!" I yell, trying to avoid his fists.

"Get out of here, you little slut! No one wants you here!" He screams. I know no one wants me here. I only came back for clothes and now I've ended up starting World War III!

"I was here first!" That sounded so petulant, even to me, so I give up on him and storm out the room. Or I try to. Just as I reach the door, a knife with a wicked, curved blade slams into the frame. I turn slowly. Not afraid or scared, but furious. He just tried to kill me. The only reason he didn't succeed is because his hands are shaking from the drink and he probably can't even see straight. "You almost killed me." I say, quietly but sounding lethal. He actually takes a step back. "You just tried to kill me." I pull the knife out of the door frame. I feel so powerful. I know I'll never use the knife to actually kill him, but he doesn't know that. "What I need you to do, Dezza," I use the nickname I know he hates so much, "is just to hold off on all this crap until after the Reaping. I'm going to Allan's, but January will tell me if anything happens while I'm gone. Ok?" He nods and I walk over to him, knife in hand. He cringes into the corner that January was so recently stuck in. What a coward. I slam the knife down into the table and when I let go, it stands vertically up, blade embedded a good 2 inches into the wood and the handle quivering. I'm proud that I could get so much power into that. Normally when I practice with knives, it's slow and weak, but that was incredible. He doesn't move or make any action towards to knife, so I turn and stalk out the room, trying to hide my grin. I just got one up on Derren. Ahaha.

"February!" January hurtles out of her room and throws her arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder. If anyone saw this scene – me comforting her – they'd assume that I was older, but January is 18 now. Her last Reaping is today and I don't think she's ready to go.

"Jan, we need to get ready for the Reaping. What are you wearing?" She holds out her arms and spins signifying that she apparently _is_ ready to go. "Ok. Your choice. I'm going to Allan's to get ready, so stay safe and if that lump down stairs tries anything, come to Allan's ok?" She nods. Right, that's sorted. I understand why we have to be protected from Derren, but I don't see what it should be me. Granted, Mum's completely smitten with him and won't hear a bad word against him and January's weak and I've always been the most vivacious. Ok, maybe it makes sense that it's me.

I walk into my room and start to look through my clothes for this one dress that I love. It's a pretty purple colour, with black lace trim around the straps and bust line. I search for the shoes that go with it, and then I'm ready to go. I skip to the window and throw it open. Anyone looking at me would never think I could get through that window, but I've had years of practice at this.

"Allan?" I whisper.

"I'm here, are you coming down?"

"Yes, but I'm going to drop my stuff first, will you catch it?" I ask, still whispering. If Derren caught me going out this way, he'd have a heart attack and bolt my window shut. He's so arrogant he thinks that no one can escape his net.

"Of course, but don't drop it all at once." I drop my shoes first, one at a time and then my dress. "Is that all you need?" He asks disbelievingly.

"Yep. I travel light." I say jokingly.

Right this is it. Despite the hundreds of times that I've done this, being 10 feet off the ground with nothing keeping me safe (apart from the marvellous boy below) is a nerve wracking experience. But, sure enough, after several minutes of climbing and manoeuvring, I'm safe and sound at the bottom with Allan.

"Ok, let's go before he realises I'm gone." We have to run to Allan's house because time is actually pretty short now. By the time we get there, he's huffing and puffing and I'm laughing at him. "You can't even run that far without getting breathless? It's only 500 metres!"

"Not… all of us… are athletes…" He says, still breathing rather heavily. I just laugh at him. He knows I'm not serious and even if I was serious, he wouldn't mind. He's too good to be true.

"Your mum won't mind will she?" I ask as he twists the handle on his front door.

"You're family, February. She won't mind at all."

I like the idea of having a second family. It makes me feel loved and strangely safe.

As soon as we walk in the door, I'm greeted by a rib-cracking hug from Allan's big brother, Casper. Despite the pain on my newest bruises, I don't complain because I love Casper. Not like I love Allan, but in a family way.

Yes. This is my real family.

_**Hugo Ataylo, D6 **_

I wake up and I'm thrown straight from one nightmare into another. Reaping Day. I don't mind the actual Reaping too much, but I hate seeing all the crying children and anxious parents. It reminds me of Fre- I stop myself right there. Don't think of her. Don't think of any of them. _But it's my fault. Beautiful little Freesia died because of me._ Then I remember the dream I had. Dream seems like a funny name, really. It was more of a hell than a fluffy fantasy full of clouds and rainbows.

I watched everyone I love die again. Freesia. Mother. Father. Carmen. Everyone I needed was executed because of what I did.

I stop myself thinking about it and swing my legs off my bed, throwing the covers back. In just 10 minutes, I've eaten, brushed my teeth and got dressed. I think that's a record. I always do things way too fast; keeping me busy gives my mind something else to think about.

Great. Now I have nothing to do. Guess I'll get myself to the Square. I get there in record time as well. So fast that I actually have to check that my watch is working right. Yep, the second hand is still ticking steadily.

"Don't get too close. It's the bread guy." I hear someone whisper behind me. It's a malicious whisper with cruel intent. That's the story of my life. I've been forever branded 'The Bread Guy'. That's the reason my family and my best friend died.

I stole bread from a Peacekeeper. And that seemingly simple act has defined my life for the past 6 years. I lost my little sister, Freesia, who was just 7 and completely harmless at the time. My mother and father were also killed and just to put the icing on the cake, Carmen, my best friend and confidant went too. Carmen's family hasn't acknowledged me since it happened – I was the reason for their daughter's death so I can't blame them I guess.

I bow my head, the weight of 4 people's deaths on my shoulders crushing me. I replay their death every night and it kills me every time.

Luckily, soon enough our escort, Farlene McAvoy, takes to the stage and starts the Reaping. But then, because a quick Reaping would be too easy for everyone, she breaks her heel on the way to the Reaping Bowl, meaning that there's a delay of about 5 minutes while she switches her stupid heels for some more sensible 3 inch ones. I can still hear people around me whispering at The Bread Guy, staying far enough away that they won't be associated with me. Isn't it rude to talk about people anymore?

"Well, oh dear. That was such a nice pair of shoes as well. So cheap!" Yes, by Capitol standards I'm sure they were, but here in District 6, we could probably sell her shoes and feed a family of 10 for several months.

"Anyway, onto the Reaping!" She rummages around in the girls' Reaping Bowl. Always the girls first. Why? "Aha!" She unfolds the slip and I raise my head to look across the aisle at the girls' section. They've all tensed up, sending a prayer to whatever God exists. "Such a pretty name!" I'm sure that'll be a consolation in an Arena of Death. "February McKinley!"

A boy just to the left of me starts crying – actually sobbing. What sort of dignified man does that? February takes to the stage and she looks relatively normal. Her hair is dark brown and wavy – no not wavy, but not curly either. It's just mad. Frizzy. That's what it is, but it still looks strangely good and suits her. Her big brown eyes are widened in shock and she looks terrified of what is coming. She shakes Farlene's hand and stares straight ahead, looking at the butchers opposite the stage.

Farlene doesn't give us much time to analyse February's behaviour because she strides over to the boys' Reaping Bowl and thrusts her hand in. I think she's just determined to be centre of attention today.

"Joshua Everest!" No way. Carmen's brother. Fate is constantly taunting me. I see him step into the aisle from the 12 year old section. He has a family and friends and a life… everything that I don't have…

"I volunteer!" I yell. Everyone turns to stare at me. They all know my story and why Carmen died. I wonder idly if I'm redeeming myself at all with this act of bravery/stupidity, but shove the thought to the back of my mind. If I'm not, there's not much I can do now, is there?

Farlene squeals. This is the first time we've had a volunteer in years and she's obviously excited, the silly bint. February just looks at me like I'm crazy, wondering why I'd sign up for such an obvious death sentence. Oh well. I doubt she'd understand why I'm so determined to make this up to them. Sure, I killed their daughter, but I just saved their son.

_**February McKinley, D6**_

__Idiot. Why would you volunteer for the Games? And what's worse is that I'm probably going to have to team up with him. Unless he doesn't want me, of course. I wouldn't be surprised; the only thing I'm good at is running and amateur knife throwing.

I can't believe this has happened, why have I been chosen? Is it really just odds or is it fate? I can't be sure. The most important thing now is I'm going to my death with this guy who volunteered. I know his story – he's the one whole stole bread, getting his entire family and his best friend killed. He got to keep the bread though. Yay for him. He's got the same colour hair as me, but his is short and swooshy. I wonder which of us will die first. Probably me. He looks strong and graceful and he's quite attractive so he'll probably get a few sponsors. More than me.

I haven't the heart to look at Allan because I can't offer him any sort of comfort. Tears spring to my eyes as I realise that I might never see him again. If he doesn't come to visit me in the Justice Building for whatever reason, then I'll never see him. I hate the idea of that and banish the thought.

Someone prods me backwards and I realise that Hugo is motioning towards the Justice Building and Farlene has stopped nattering with Peacekeepers long enough to do her freaking job. Why would Hugo wait for me? Does he not have anyone coming to see him? Then I remember his story and it hits me that he probably doesn't; no friends, family murdered, everyone hates him. Apart from me. I can feel some sympathy towards him. We're all starving here and a lot of people steal, he just had the misfortune to be caught in the act.

They take me to the fanciest room I'm ever seen. There's gold everywhere and plush velvet sofas and china decorating the wall. There's a pretty chandelier hanging high above my head. I could probably reach it if I balanced on the back of the sofa. No one's here… and my adventurous sense of curiosity is willing me on. So I clamber up…

Yes!

With one foot on the arm of the sofa and one on the back cushions and if I really stretch, I can just about clink the lowest diamonds. They're so beautiful. I wonder why no one has ever stolen one. Again, my dangerous sense of exploration and the need to prove the Capitol wrong overcomes me. What do I have to lose at this point? I gently pull one of the diamonds and the dainty metal chain holding it on snaps. Hehe, I've acquired a diamond. I tuck it down the front of my shirt and start on the next one. Seeing as I can only reach the lowest stones, I can only collect 10. But those 10 could keep Allan and his entire extended family fed for years on end. So I'll give him at least 9 of them. If he's brought me a token I'll give him the 10th as well, if not, I plan on taking a diamond into the Arena with me. I'm going to use the Capitol's possession as my token and they won't even know it. I laugh out loud.

"February…" Allan's here. I must seem completely mad. I'm stood on the back of the sofa, laughing and holding a bunch of diamonds. Oh well. If he loves me, he can accept that we all have our moments.

"Allan." I say, jumping to the floor and hugging him. He seems reluctant. I lean back and look at him searchingly, trying to see what the matter is. "What's wrong?"

"It's January…" My hearts drops like a stone through a wet paper bag. I hate wet paper bags.

"Tell me. Is she ok? Is she outside? She came to see me, right?" I'm panicked. If Derren has done anything at all to her, I'm actually going to kill him this time.

"She's not here. I don't think she can come." I feel my breathing speed up. I hear the double meaning to his words.

There's a commotion outside and I see Derren and Mum being pulled along by Peacekeepers. Peacekeepers normally overlook the small, petty crimes or just punish people outside. The only reason you're brought into the Justice Building is if you kill someone… I look back at Allan and dread courses through me.

"I think you were the only reason they didn't do it sooner…" I scream and run for the door. I'll kill them. I'll kill them both! How could they kill her? Especially our own mother! I'm going to kill them. On the way, I pick up a heavy looking vase. I'll kill them!

I don't get very far though because Allan wraps his arms around me, securing my arms to my side. I kick and scream in fury but he lifts me off the ground easily, carrying me back to the room. When we're there, he shuts the door and lets me go but remains stood between me and my exit.

"Get out of the way, Allan!" I shriek at him. I run towards him and try to pull him away from the door but he remains stood there.

"No." He says. I collapse to the floor, my knees buckling and cry into the red carpet. Allan leaves his post next to the door and holds me close to him, murmuring words that mean absolutely nothing to me. "I'm so sorry. I tried to stop them, but I was too weak. It was right after the Reaping. You'd only just gone. I think the cameras got it, so they can't plead innocent. I'm so sorry." It's sweet of him to offer this comfort, but it won't bring her back. Nothing will. The last time I saw her was before the Reaping, when she was crying. I can't even have a happy memory of her. Damn Derren and Mum to the fieriest pits of hell. I want to see them suffer!

I can't even summon the energy to hug Allan back though; I just sit here and cry.

"February…" Allan says eventually. I just whimper something inaudible to show I'm listening. "What were you doing before I came in?" That gives me the strength I needed. _Keep Allan and his family – _your_ family – alive._ I sit up and plunge my hand into my undershirt, extracting the treasures within.

"Here." I say and push the 10 diamonds into his hands. I don't care if he hasn't brought me a token, that won't bring January back and it won't help to keep me alive in the Arena.

"Where did you get these?" He whispers, turning them over in awe. I clear my throat loudly to get his attention then point towards the ceiling. He eyes the chandelier in disbelieving amusement. "That could get you killed."

"I'm probably going to die anyway."

He freezes. Oops. I didn't mean to say that out loud. He has to think I haven't given up. But he lets it slide after a few seconds and moves on. "I brought you a token." So he did bring me something after all. He helps me up and sits me on the sofa before he gives it to me though. Then he drops to one knee. I feel my throat close up. No way. I'm sure my eyes have gone wide. This is scarier than the Reaping. I'm only 15!

_But it's Allan. You've always wanted to marry him._

"February McKinley. When you come home," He emphasises the 'when' like I'm definitely going to come back. "Will you marry me?"

Will I marry him? Yes. Can I marry him? No. I'm going to die. But if this is the last time I'm ever going to see him, I'm going to make him happy.

"Yes. I will. Always."

He brings a ring out of his pocket. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. All silver and purple gemstones. It's incredible.

"Where did you get that? It's beautiful." I ask. If he had this, why did he take tesserae this year?

"It was my mother's. I thought it would look good on you."

"Does she know?"

"Yes. She says welcome to the family." I laugh breathily. I'm engaged. This fact is made official by Allan slipping the beautiful ring onto my finger and kissing it gently before sitting next to me. "We're engaged." He says disbelievingly. I don't know why he's so shocked, he just asked me.

"Yes. We are." I think he knew what he was doing when he proposed because he's just made me twice as determined to get home. Yes. He knew that I'd want to get home to him. We just sit and look at the ring on my finger until a Peacekeeper comes in and tells me that my time with Allan is up. I wonder if he means just for today or ever. Hopefully I'll see Allan again, but if I don't…

"I love you." I say. I've never said this to anyone before. Not when I actually mean it.

"I love you, too." He replies and kisses me on the lips. "Come home."

"I will. I promise."

_Hey, it's Dizzy again. To anyone who thinks this February/Allan conclusion is unrealistic, young love exists and they are both committed to this relationship. Lucky them, eh? And if you were about to die, you'd probably do some pretty insane things. But maybe February isn't going to die. Maybe she is. To be honest, I don't know myself yet._

_Please review. Reviews make my day._

_Byeee :)_


	9. District 7 Reaping

_A hemlock tree is a very rough tree that grows in dark places. They are also very poisonous – once their poison starts spreading, it's fast and hard to stop. Hey, look at what our character's called! Her ideas are highly poisonous._

**Chapter 8:** District 7, Reaping Day

_**Hemlock "Hemmy" Austbury **_

I slam the axe blade into the bark again and I'm pleased when the tree finally topples down.

"Timber!" I yell. I know I'll be the only lumberjack in this forest at the moment, but it's courtesy to warn people apparently. That's what it says in those stupid-ass Capitol booklets. Every house in District 7 has a copy of that booklet. It's as if some Capitolite decided that we didn't really need to eat and the 'Lumberjack Safety' booklets were a more important use of money. The Capitolites are all stupid. To be honest, it's lucky I haven't been murdered yet with all the public bad-mouthing I do about the Capitol, but people seem blind to the fact that we _could_ change circumstances if we wanted to, but we'd all need to act together, as a whole unit.

I think about the likelihood of that ever happening and I throw my axe into the nearest tree, completely burying the curved blade. I love my axe. My axe is like my baby. A very violent, deadly baby. I plonk down on the tree I just felled, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I heave an almighty sigh and let my light brown hair fall in curtains over my eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one can see me. I'm all alone…

"Hemmy!" I hear a muffled voice shout. For crying out loud! I come to the most secluded part of the District, as far away as I can get from the town and someone still feels obliged to follow me! Can I have no peace?

I jump up and run silently to the tree with my axe still rooted in it and yank it out. Considering I don't know who has been following me and who is now observing me, it's probably best to be armed, just in case. I stand completely still, listening to even twitch of the forest, separating natural from mechanical and subconsciously I've almost completely relaxed when I hear a huge rustle in the bushes to my left. I spin and ready my axe for throwing. Then I see who's making the racket and lower it, rolling my eyes.

"Hemmy, I'm frightened." My stupid, loveable, cute, idiot brother, Storax. Today's his first Reaping.

"Of course you are I almost threw an axe at you. I might've killed you." I know he means about the Reaping, but a bit of sarcasm and tough love never hurt anyone. I walk over and ruffle his hair. Maybe I'm a bit too rough with him, but it's all character building.

"The Reaping…"

"I know dumb-ass. What do you think I am, stupid?"

"Did you cut this down?" He says, sitting on the log. I go to sit next to him and put my arm around his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"No. I just found it freshly cut. Did you not hear me yelling timber?" I say sarcastically.

"Yes, I did. Why did you do that? There's no one here."

"That's what I thought, Mister, until you turned up. But you know the Capitol, with their stupid, unnecessary rules making our life that bit harder." He doesn't question this – it's just how I talk.

His brow creases as if he's deep in thought. He sits like that for a few minutes so I leave him to it and pluck some clover, shoving it straight in my mouth. "Hemmy…" He says from behind me.

"Storax…" I say, mimicking his tone, but not quite sounding right because I put way too much clover in my mouth.

"Can I practice with your axe?" I swallow.

"Practice? With _my_ axe? Are you _insane_? What if you broke it? What then?" I put my hands on my hips and give him the most patronizing look I can muster. We both know I'm just kidding, but it's funny to tease him anyway. "What is you misthrow it and hit yourself? Or worse, me?" He giggles. It's such a cute noise that I laugh with him. "Anyway, where's your axe?"

"It's at home. I didn't think you were coming out here, so I followed you." He says. He looks so sweet when he's guilty. "And anyway, mine's just a hatchet, but yours…" He looks admiringly at my axe, with the carefully sharpened blade and the polished handle. "Yours is much more impressive than mine."

"Sure it is, dumb-dumb; your weak little arms couldn't hold a real axe yet." I say playfully. I don't mean any harm by it, it's just what I do, but Sto isn't very old yet and doesn't understand the concept of sarcasm. He looks as if he's about to object, so I quickly distract him. "Anyway, Sto. What are you wearing to the Reaping?"

"I don't know. You?"

"Same. We should get home. Hey, you wanted to practice? Practice walking quietly. I'm not kidding. Go ahead of me."

We spend the next half hour walking home as quietly as we can. He slips up occasionally, snapping a twig or rustling a leaf. Each time I reprimand him and tell him what he's doing wrong. I never make a sound. My feet glide smoothly across the forest floor, axe at the ready. I don't technically need my axe ready at all, it's just habit. I sometimes hunt here as an outright rebellion against the Capitol. Maybe Storax is right. Maybe I'm going to get myself killed.

But if my death brings about change, then at least I'll die happy.

_**Ash Tamarack, D7**_

I'm sat at the edge of the forest, waiting for an acceptable time to leave for the Reaping, when I see a teenage girl and a little boy creeping out. She stops him and pulls him into a hug. I'm close enough to vaguely hear what they're saying but I can't see what they look like. My hearing's always been good.

"I'm scared." The little boy says.

"Don't be. You're titchy; you could just sneak out the crowd and go unnoticed." Says the girl. If that's all the comfort she can offer, I'm worried for the boy. Oh well.

"Gee, thanks, Hemmy." Says the boy. She punches his shoulder and they walk away, more relaxed that when they came out of the forest. Weird. It's funny how she talked about actually evading the Capitol and breaking the rules… Hemmy. I'll remember that name. She sounds dangerous… and very rebellious. I wonder if she has any friends. They'd be in constant danger around her.

I glance at the Justice Building Clock Tower. 25 minutes until I'm expected at the Square. This time is going to drag.

I lie back on the grass and look for shapes in the cloud. A fish. A cat. A bird… it looks like a mockingjay.

A mockingjay. I've always loved mockingjays. We get a lot of them in the trees around the District. I think they just come because there are so many trees and they breed like crazy. Whenever I see them I sing to them, granted I'm not very good, but I love watching them listen to my song and cock their head slightly, then repeat it right back in their beautiful voices. I don't know why the Capitol is so opposed to them, they seem mostly harmless. I've been lying so still that nature seems to have accepted me. Rabbits come out of their hiding places, the birds start singing and best of all a mockingjay comes and sits next to me. Very slowly, I sit up and sing a tune. Nothing vastly complicated, just a string of notes that I pick out of thin air. There's a slight pause and then he repeats it. This goes on and on and on, me singing more and more complicated melodies and the mockingjay not even struggling with them. I think it's an older one. They're better because they've had more practice.

The next thing I know, there's a voice echoing around the District saying "Report to the Town Square. Report to the Town Square." About 10 times before it cuts off in a fizz of static. I stand up and start the short walk. The mockingjay flies back into the forest and starts singing the last tune I gave it. That makes me smile – it remembers me.

I'm one of the first to arrive so I stand as far away from the stage as I reasonably can while still being in the correct section. I don't like being in the middle of things, I feel like everyone's watching me. So I remove myself from that situation. The Square starts filling up slowly. When there's about 100 people dotted about in their various sections, I see Mum walk in, holding hands with Maple. My sister isn't the most normal person I've ever met, but then again she says the same thing about me. The thing is, we both have the nasty habit of just smiling inanely at people. It's a kind of creepy grin with doesn't exactly endear us to people. Neither of us have any friends because of it.

When nearly everyone has arrived at the Square, our escort, Missy Harlow, totters onto the stage and takes her seat next to our only living mentor, Dahlia Beaumont. We had another Victor once but he killed himself after his Victory Tour. Apparently he fell in love in the Arena and his girl died in the Final 8. I wasn't even alive then but I heard he was distraught. So now it's just Dahlia.

Dahlia and Missy are complete opposites. Dahlia, although she's pretty in a kind of wild way, looks like a slob. Her dark green velvet dress is crumpled and she's slouched in her chair, the picture of defeat. When she lifts her head, I see her face is dirty too. Not obvious blotches of mud, but a layer of grime that darkens her pale face. It's a miracle that she's still alive after 7 years of mentoring. It must be hell to get to know 2 kids each year then watch them die. And she's only 24.

Then there's Missy. Her face is plastered with pale makeup, her lips darkened with some kind of red lipstick and her eyes outlined with black. Her hair is a vivid yellow and she has a weird headdress on that has springs coming off it in all directions. At the end of each spring is a red butterfly. I suppose that's attractive in the Capitol, but to me (and everyone else in District 7) she just looks stupid. Her clothes are just as wacky, she's in a corset and floor length bustle skirt in the same hue as her hair and it's covered in tiny diamonds. It must cost a fortune. The Capitol fashions are crazy.

After another 5 minutes, she _finally_ walks to the microphone to begin.

_**Hemlock "Hemmy" Austbury, D7**_

At last, we can get this Reaping out of the way. She takes her time faffing with the microphone and her dress and her hair and God only knows what else. I wonder if I could cause a scene here today in front of all of Panem without being shot. I ponder this as she makes her annual speech about how great the Capitol is.

I glance around the Square wondering if anyone is listening to this rubbish. Most people are staring at the stage but their eyes are unfocused and I don't think they're actually paying attention. Maybe I'm wrong. But I doubt it. When I reach the boys' section I see Oscar smiling at me. My heart flips and I smile back. He works on my team at the lumberyard sometimes and he's one of my best friends. He's the only person who accepts my rants about the Capitol because he knows that they are just part of me and he isn't worried about what they'd do to him because of what I say. _'We live in danger everyday… I'll die eventually.'_ He'd say if I asked him why he doesn't mind. He's sweet and kind and caring but also funny and sarcastic. He's perfect. I've liked him for ages but I don't want to ruin our friendship with unnecessary affections that he may not reciprocate. I look away, still smiling. Oscar can make me smile like no one else.

I tune back into Missy's speech towards the end.

"The Districts owe everything to the Capitol. Without the Capitol, he Districts would not survive." She says in her hilariously chirpy accent. That's funny. I'm pretty sure I could survive in the forest with nothing but an axe. I don't need the Capitol. I want to laugh so badly. Her assumptions would be insulting, but I know that she doesn't know any better. She's been spoon fed the Capitol's lies all her life. "Shall we select our Tributes now?" She says while walking over to the Bowl. Even if we said no, she wouldn't have stopped or even acknowledged the dissent.

_Oh, Missy. You're just the Capitol's lap dog, aren't you?_

She puts her hand into the glass ball and rather than digging around like a lot of escorts do, she plucks a slip right off the top and unfolds it. Is this the girl or the boy that she's picking at the moment? Probably girls. The girls always go first. It's manners apparently. She sidles back to the microphone like she has all the time in the world. I wonder what the people in the Capitol are worrying about right now. If whoever is picked will have an interesting death? It's very possible. She takes a deep breath.

"Hemlock Austbury?" She says, her already high voice rising at the end, making the name – my name – a question.

Hemlock Austbury. That's me. Funny – you see Tributes on the TV breaking down and collapsing with dread or fear but I don't feel any of that. This is my chance to make a public stand against the Capitol. And that's what I'll do, even if I die doing it.

I can't wait.

_**Ash Tamarack, D7**_

Hemlock… Nice name.

A girl walks quickly up to stage with none of the normal signs of fear or anxiety that you normally see in Tributes, but almost with anticipation. Either she's mentally ill or she's one of these terrifying, brutal, Career-type Tributes that you sometimes get from lower class Districts. They only turn up once in a blue moon though.

Missy holds out her hand to welcome hemlock onto stage.

"I don't think so, Missy. I want nothing to do with the Capitol and their ridiculous ideas." She says offhandedly.

They say silence speaks louder than words and in the silence that permeates District 7 you can hear the disapproval and fear at Hemlock's words.

"Well, Miss Hemlock, that sort of talk is hardly necessary. Are you not grateful to the Capitol?" Says Missy. Maybe she's trying to give Hemlock a second chance. Or maybe she just feels obliged to repair the Capitol's reputation.

"First, Miss Missy," She pauses to laugh at her own joke. But her laugh is tinged with bitterness and resentfulness and doesn't sound natural. "Call me Hemmy. That's what everyone else who respects me does." Ahh. Hemmy: The girl that was creeping out of the forest with the boy. "You may not respect me – the Capitol seems to treat the Districts like dirt – but I'd like you to call me Hemmy. Secondly, no. I'm not grateful to the Capitol. We work for them and in return they starve us." She says like this is perfectly obvious. And now that I think about it… it _is_ obvious. I look around and rest of the crowd looks deep in thought, some with their brows furrowed and some chewing their lips. We're all thinking the same:

_She's right._

There's some mumbling in the crowd that rises until I can barely hear my own thoughts and poor Missy is left trying to pick up the pieces.

"Erm… Shall we move on… excuse me!" She decides that the best way to get everyone's attention is to pick the male tribute, so she strides over to the Reaping Bowl and picks out a name. "So… so, the male tribute… is… excuse me."

"Oi!" Dahlia, the mentor, has stood up and yelled at the top of her lungs. I've never heard her speak, let alone shout. If someone told me that she could shout that loud, I would never have believed them. But she's managed to get the entire District's attention when Missy couldn't. "You can resume your chatter when we've got both Tributes and I've had a drink!" She shouts. Wow. So she's a drunkard as well. "Missy, go ahead."

Missy looks flustered for a second but then quickly reads out the name.

"Ash Tamarack!" She blurts out.

Ash Tamarack.

No way.

How?

Oh my God.

I make my way to the stage. It seems to take ages and I really regret standing as far away as I did. I really need to get over my neuroses about people staring. People will be watching me in the Games.

Oh my God. The Games. It's only just hit me… I'm going to die… A tear slips down my cheek. Am I crying? Oh no. I'm just going to look weak. Hopefully no one's watching me or they've all just blinked at the same time. I wipe away the tear and smile at Missy. Well, she'll probably like me more than she'll like Hemmy. I think I'm right because she smiles back at me.

"Right, great. Can we go now? Marvellous." Says Dahlia, and she starts walking towards the Justice Building. I make to follow her, as does Missy, but Hemmy isn't quite finished.

"Goodbye, dear friends of 7. Even if by some miracle, I win this thing, the Capitol will probably kill me anyway. So I'll see you in heaven." She waves madly, grinning. Then she turns and struts into the Justice Building. We all follow her inside. Well, she's memorable at least. One thing that I am most definitely not. I'm going to die.

And I start to cry again.

_**Hemlock "Hemmy" Austbury, D7**_

I laugh loudly. That was effing hilarious! Their faces! I even got them thinking about how unjust the Capitol's actions are. I'm going to make a difference. I'm going to change the world. Somehow, the Peacekeepers that are taking me to my room don't seem as thrilled by my speech as I am. When we get to my goodbye room, they shove me so hard that I fall to the floor. I'm not down for long though because I leap up and give them the death stare.

"That was rude." I say menacingly. They actually look scared. I laugh at them. "Well, off you go. I have friends to say goodbye to."

"I doubt that." One of them says. I step towards him, readying myself to hit him and he runs out of the room. I laugh again and sit down on the sofa. It's actually quite comfy in here so I lean my head back and close my eyes, reflecting on my victory in the Square. Again and again I replay the insults in my mind. I revealed the truth to the people of my District. I like to think of myself as a hero.

_'I want nothing to do with the Capitol and their ridiculous ideas.' _Yes_._ I said it. I made a public stand against the Capitol.

"Hem, you're freaking crazy." I open my eyes and stand up quickly. I'm startled by the sudden voice and its immediacy. But of course it's Oscar. He's the only person who can move as quietly as me.

"It was great wasn't it?" I say, sitting down again and motioning for him to join me.

"It was certainly unbelievable…" I smile at him and he smiles back, but it looks slightly forced. "So…" He says. He's sitting awkwardly and not making eye contact. Hmm… That's weird. Something's wrong and I have to find out what.

"Oscar…" I say, putting my hand on his forearm and staring into his eyes. He's purposefully avoiding my gaze though and it's so frustrating. "Oscar." I say more insistently. He finally glances at me. This is so unnerving. He normally has no problem with eye contact, especially with me. I'm shocked… and kind of hurt… "What's wrong?" He leaps up and starts pacing. Pacing? Where's _my_ Oscar gone?

"Wrong? _Wrong? _It might be quicker for me to tell you what's right – it's certainly a shorter list." He pauses and looks at me as if he's waiting for an answer… but he hasn't even asked a question yet. I'm so confused.

"Nothing's wrong… I'm going to change the world." I say. Now it's _me_ who's having problems looking at _him_. I know he's staring at me, but I just can't seem to force my eyes upward.

"Everything's wrong." He says quietly, sitting next to me. "I'm losing you." I finally look at him and realise that he's sat ramrod straight, staring straight ahead. "I can't lose you. I'll go mad." He says. I understand now. I've been so wrapped up in my fantasies of humiliating the Capitol that I overlooked the obvious. I'm going to the Games and leaving Oscar behind. This is going to be the last time I ever see him. I reach across and touch his wrist with my fingers. He seems to thaw a little and turns to face me. He raises his hand to my face and wipes away a tear that I didn't know had escaped.

"Do you understand now?" He says softly. I nod.

"I'm sorry." I say quietly. He shakes his head.

"There's no reason for you to be sorry." I shrug. There is a reason. I was so insensitive about it. I'm going to die and I was happy that I could get one up on the Capitol. That's not ok. I caused Oscar unnecessary pain and made this harder for him than it needs to be. "Promise me something, Hem."

"Anything." I say earnestly.

"Come home to me." This conversation is so serious. I can't stand it. And I can't promise him that. I've only got a 1 in 24 chance. And that's before factoring in all the variables of skills, sponsors, whether the Capitol hates me or not. Which they do. Suddenly 1 in 24 seems optimistic. But I won't bother Oscar with these minor details.

"I'll try."

"Please do." He raises my hand to his lips and kisses it. We exchange a smile but then a Peacekeeper comes in (the same Peacekeeper than pushed me and I almost beat up).

"Can't you see we're trying to talk?" I say grumpily. I really don't want to say a final goodbye to Oscar.

"Ha. Shame. His times up." He says, pointing to Oscar.

"Right." I say tersely. I was going to say something completely different (and rather rude), but these are my final moments with Oscar and I intend to make the most of them. So I turn to him and kiss him. Full on the lips. This is weird. It only lasts for a second before I pull away, but it's so sweet and it feels so good to finally do something about my feelings that I come out of it smiling.

"Thank you." He says, grinning too. "I thought I was going to have to start it." He was going to start it? This only makes me smile more. He holds up one finger –_ 'wait a moment' _– then places something light in my palm. I turn it over and it clinks. There's a woody smell. I look at him and he nods enthusiastically. I open my palm and look.

I know it as soon as I see it. Oscar's very religious and, as such, has a rosary. It's a special rosary though, made out of hemlock wood. _My_ wood. It strikes me as an odd gesture that he's given me this, but I don't have to wait long for an explanation.

"You might have to kill in the Arena… and whether you try to prevent it or not… you might… die…" He says, getting quieter and quieter. He clears his throat. "But don't worry, Hem, if there's a place in Heaven for anyone, it's you." I nod and smile in acknowledgement of his words even though I'm not particularly religious. It's actually quite moving that's he's thought of me this way. Oh no. The tears are welling up again.

"Take care of yourself, Oscar." I say and I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"And you, sweet Hemlock." He says. Then he grins mischievously. "Give 'em hell."

"Oh I will. You can be sure of that." I say, returning the smile.


	10. District 8 Reaping

_Ladies and gentlemen… I give you District 8. _

_By the way, hey Livvy :)_

_(Livvy is my crazy-ass (but hilarious and sweet and fabulous) friend who apparently has fallen in love with my writing. Her words, not mine.)_

_Dizzy xx_

**Chapter 9: **District 8, Reaping Day

_**Francis "Fran" Weaver, D8**_

I wake up to the smell of meat. Unfortunately, no one's cooking this morning – the smell's just the daily fare when your father owns the butcher in Town. Tobias Weaver, District 8 Butcher. That's my dad's 'official' title. Everyone in District 8 knows him, so everyone knows me too. Apparently I'm sweet. I giggle at the thought of me being sweet and reach under my bed for my knife.

I lie there, thinking of what I should wear for the Reaping. I've been blessed with straight dark blonde hair and a slim figure, so I could wear a bin bag and still look acceptable.

I sit up and hurl my knife at the wall absentmindedly. The blade sinks into the plaster, making a fresh hole like those around it. The thing about growing up around knives and cleavers is that you learn to throw them. Or maybe that's just me; I feel the need to try everything at least once. Knife throwing caught my interest and Dad taught me how to do it properly. Dad doesn't even mind me tossing around weapons – it's great.

"Morning Dad." I say as I walk downstairs. "Can I help you slice the ham in a minute?" I ask hopefully.

"Sure honey." He says. "Marianne!" He shouts to my mother. I think she's in the back room.

"Yes, To!" She cries back.

"Fran's up! You asked me to tell you when she came down!" He says then winks at me. I'm freaking out and I've actually taken a step back towards the stairs. Why couldn't Mum just wait until I walked into the back room? She comes rushing into the shop, tying her apron quickly and looking me up and down.

"Morning sweetie. Are you helping your father with the ham?" She says kindly. I love my mum. She knows that I don't want to go into weaving or sewing like most of the girls in District 8, but that I want to carry on the family business. She doesn't mind either, she just accepts it.

"I will be." I say, guarded. I think she's trying to trap me with words.

"Then you'll be getting ready for the Reaping? No detours or trips out…?"

"Mum, why don't you just ask me what you want to ask?" I say, tying my own apron and handing Dad the cleaver he'd pointed at over my shoulder. It's the giant one that I can barely lift. Damn, I need to do some muscle building exercises.

"Well, a boy came around earlier. He had dark hair and bushy eyebrows." Oh no. That sounds like Abe. Not Abe! My whole morning just got more complicated. I groan at her and take my knife out of my pocket. "Who is he?"

"Well, that's Abe, he's in my year at school and, well, you know him – his dad runs the factory on Cecil Street." They both nod in recognition.

"The odd one." Says Mum.

"The strange one." Says Dad.

"Yes-" I say, but don't get any further because they're continuing their analysis of Abe.

"The one with the funny tick, you know – his head…"

"Yes. And the eyebrows must run in the family. His dad's got the same…"

"Yes! That's him." I say loudly, breaking into their little bubble of insults. I turn around so I'm facing them, with my back to the counter and the front door. "Anyway, he asked me if he could come round here the other day so I was like _'maybe another time'_ and he was all like _'ok'_ so I just kind of ran off, and I think he took that as an invitation."

"So you aren't dating him?" Says Mum as if she's finally getting down to what she wanted. I have a feeling that she didn't care about who Abe was, but she just wanted to know if we were dating.

"No! Gross!" I hear the bell on the door tinkle behind me, announcing that we have a customer. "I would _never_ date Abe!" Mum and Dad just stare at me then glance at each other and then continue staring. _"Parents."_ I say in exasperation as I turn around to greet our customer, but I don't get that far because I'm horrified by the very sight of him.

_Abe. _

Holy crap! I really hope he didn't hear that. Maybe he's gone deaf. Yeah, right, in the half hour since he was last here? That's so unlikely.

The bell chimes merrily again as he storms out of the shop and strides across the square. I shrug and start on the ham again but then Mum's pulled the knife out of my hand and she's ushering me towards the door. "Go after him!" She's urging me. "Go and apologise!"

"Apologise for what? Not liking him?" I say sarcastically.

"Yes!" _What?_ "Good luck!" She shouts after me. Well, there's nothing for it. I start running across the Square and soon enough I catch up with Abe. I've always been quite fast.

"Abe! Wait!" I say, pulling his arm to get him to slow down. He steps away from my hand, leaving a gap of about 4 feet between us. He closes his eyes melodramatically and breathes. "I'm sorry." His eyes flash open.

"Sorry? No. _I'm_ sorry for being so delusional." He says bitterly. I take half a step closer, bridging some of the space between us.

"Maybe I would… date… you. But I don't even know you!" I finish. His face just looks disbelieving. I replay what I just said in my head and then I sigh – it sounded 10 times worse than it was meant to. "I didn't mean-" But I never get to finish my sentence because he lunges for me and plants a kiss right on my lips. EUGH! _I'M KISSING ABE! _I pull back and punch him. Oh my God! I've just been molested! My first kiss has been stolen! I wring my hands in front of me, mentally flipping out, while he stands across from me, rubbing his jaw in disbelief.

"You punched me!"

"You kissed me! Which is more disgusting?" I squeal and start walking backwards away from him. When I'm about 4 metres away, I turn on my heel and sprint back to my house. I charge through the door and lock it behind me. "Mum!" I yell. "I'm unclean! Get the bleach!"

She and Dad just laugh at me from behind the counter. Apparently they saw the whole thing through the front windows and have no objections that their only daughter was just assaulted.

"Cut your own ham." I mumble at Dad with as much dignity as I still have. I take off my apron and throw it vaguely towards the hooks. They're still laughing at me when I shut my bedroom door.

_Parents. _

_**Warp Fiasco, D8**_

"Good morning, Warp." Says Mum as I walk into the kitchen.

"Morning Mum. Is there any breakfast? Or has Weft eaten everything?" I say, raising my eyebrows at my twin brother. They both laugh and she pushes a bowl of hot grain towards me. "Thanks. Where's Dad?" I ask, looking around the kitchen as if he's just hiding somewhere.

"He's still at the factory." I nod and start on my grain. It's normal for this time in the morning – he works the night shift.

About 10 minutes later he walks in the door and greets us all.

"Morning all!" He says in a very upbeat voice. "How are you all this fine morning?" We all just kind of grumble in response. "Boys, the chances of you being chosen are tiny – you have 2 entries each." Wrong. I have 6. I'm not sure about Weft – he's always been less caring than me and he might not have taken tesserae but if he has, he'll have 6 as well. That greatly increases our chances of being chosen.

"Actually Dad…" Says Weft. It's funny, I was about to say exactly that and admit to taking tesserae. "I kind of took tesserae this year. I didn't last year though so I only have 4 entries."

"6." I correct. They all stare at me – unspoken questions in their eyes. "I took it too. That's why we've been eating so well this year." There's silence.

"How could you?" Mum yells. "You both took tesserae? I'm ashamed of both of you! Loom!" My Dad's head snaps up.

"Yes, sweetie?" He says.

"Loom, back me up here!" She shouts at him.

"Carla…" It's weird hearing my parents calling each other by their first names. "It was their choice… And there's nothing we can do about it now…I'm not saying that what you did was right, boys… But there's nothing we can do about it now except pray." Pray? Really? Why does everything come back to religion in this house? I'm not even remotely religious so I just sit there while they pray. "Lord, please watch over my boys today…" He carries on rambling about saving us from the horrors of the Games and I just sit there eating, waiting for it to be over.

"Amen." They say. They all stare at me expectantly.

"Weren't you praying, Warp?" Says Weft.

"No." I say. "I don't believe in God." They just stare at me in disbelief. "If that's everything, I'm going to go and get dressed…" They don't answer so I dismiss myself from the table and go back to my room.

I wander around, trying to find all my clothes, and I think about my family. When people see twins they think that we're obviously mischief makers and we do everything together and we think the same way, but that's not the case with me and Weft. I'm logical and quite intelligent and I have hardly any friends. Weft, on the other hand, is stupid and simple-minded and seems to have loads of friends. I'd rather have my friends than his friends though. There's Hilda, Andy, Liam and Katherine. Hilda's my favourite, I think. She listens to me while the others mostly ignore me. I'm kind of a tagalong and only Hilda really understands me.

Once I'm dressed and ready to leave, I press my ear against the door. When I think that it's safe to leave without being bombarded by questions, I creep to the front door and ease it open, trying not to attract anymore unnecessary attention. I slip out, pausing only to yell a very brief goodbye.

"I'll see you after the Reaping!" And I slam the door, making sure they know that I'm gone. I'm walking down my road towards the Square when I meet Hilda and Liam. They both live just a few doors away from me and from each other, so we always meet before the Reapings.

"Good morning Warp." Says Liam politely. A greeting is one of the only times Liam ever talks to me and I get the feeling he doesn't particularly like me. Hilda, however, always greets me with enthusiasm.

"Hey, Warp! How are you feeling?" She says, smiling at me.

"Hey, Hilda, I'm great." I say sarcastically – I'm anything but. "I just told my family that I'm not religious and that I took tesserae both in the same conversation. They seemed more shocked about the religion thing that the tesserae though." Then I remember another detail from our breakfast time conversation. "Weft took tesserae too."

"Really? So your family's eaten pretty well then." Says Hilda, elbowing me in the ribs. I know she doesn't mean to hurt me, but her elbows are sharp and I bruise easily.

"Yeah," I laugh, "I said that too." We enter the Square together where they sign us in and point us to our places as if we don't know the routine yet. We amble along the aisle, quite at ease with the situation. We stop when we get to the 13 year old section. "Good luck, Hilda." I say with a smile.

"And you, Warp. You too, Liam." She says to Liam, who has already started walking off without a word. He just looks over his shoulder and nods. "I don't think he likes me." Says Hilda in a downtrodden voice.

"I don't think he particularly likes anyone." I offer as comfort. "I'll see you after." I say and we split into out different sections.

I decide that I really don't want to stand with Liam in stony silence for the duration of this Reaping and just I hover near the barrier instead, waiting for things to get under way. A couple of minutes later, Mum, Dad and Weft walk into the Square. They both kiss him and he walks towards me. I try not to feel bitter that they obviously like him more than me, but it's hard. I'm older than him.

"Hey, Warp!" Says Weft excitedly, coming up beside me and slapping me on the back. I think it's a 'popular guy' thing because I've only ever seen him and his friends do it.

"Hey Weft." I say dully.

"What you said earlier…" He says, breaking into my thoughts yet again. "About religion, is it true? And did you really take tesserae?"

"Yes. To both." I say, clasping my hands behind my back and standing straight. "Did you take tesserae?"

"No. But it's best to prepare them for the worst, right?" He says. I turn and stare at him. I don't know why but I'm actually angry at him.

"I can't believe you did that." I say coldly. "I actually did risk my neck for our family and yet they still prefer you!" I burst out in a rush of resentment. He looks shocked by my analysis, but the shock quickly turns to an irritation that mirrors my own.

"That was such a selfish thing to say, Warp." He turns around and marches off to where his friends are stood. I just stand there, literally too shocked to move. I'm frozen. His words run through my head over and over again. I eventually have to stop thinking about the various inflections of the question and think about my answer.

Am I selfish?

I don't know…

_**Francis "Fran" Weaver, D8**_

__The Square is almost full when I step out of the shop. I'm still not speaking to my parents after _'The Abe incident'_ as I'm calling it. I just really hope that no one has found out about it. I walk into my section, looking around for Lizza. Lizza's my best friend – she has been since we were about 5 – and I'd do anything for her. She comes running up to me from nowhere, stunning me slightly.

"Fran! Tell me _everything_! When did it start? How come you didn't tell me?" She witters obviously excited about something but God alone knows what.

"Excuse me? I don't know what you mean…" I say honestly.

"Abe!" She says, as if this is meant to be an explanation.

"Full sentences, Lizza." I remind her.

"You are going out with Abe!" She says, pointing towards the boys section where Lizza's boyfriend, Michael McAndrew, is having a serious-looking conversation with Abe. I laugh. She _cannot_ be serious! "So it's true?" She says, completely misreading the laugh.

"No! Of course not!" I say indignantly. "Where did you hear that?"

"From Sally, who heard it from Sapphire, who heard it from Mollie, who saw you kissing him this very morning!" She finishes with obvious enthusiasm seeping from every pore. I'm going to kill Mollie.

"Oh yeah. That. Did she forget to mention that I punched him and ran back to my house screaming?" I say with mock curiosity.

"You did… _what_?" She whispers in horror. "I thought you liked him!"

What fresh hell?

Luckily just at that moment, Tabatha Margarita stands up from her chair. She's been escorting for every Games that I can remember and probably some more before that. She's here every year with her assortment of wigs. She has about 8 I think. This year's is something spectacular though, in a wildly bright, sunny yellow. It stands at about 2 feet tall in a giant beehive shape and it looks like she's struggling to hold her head up. But it's much better than last year's, which was jet black and gelled into stiff, foot long spikes. She almost impaled the mayor.

"We'll crack straight on." She says quite urgently. _Yeah because you can't lift your wig._ I think. "This year's tribute for the ladies will be…" I laugh inwardly as her wig shifts forward a few inches, making it look like she has no forehead. She squeaks but plants her left hand firmly on the top of her head. Her right hand is holding the slip of paper about 6 inches from her face. Maybe the handwriting's small. Mine's tiny. I really ought to get that sorted.

"Francis Weaver!"

I'm frozen. No way. No freakin' way. I just stand there while everyone in the Square looks at me, waiting for me to move, but my brain has turned to ice and I can't make anything work. I start to panic. What if I'm paralysed?

"Francis Weaver?" She repeats, confused that no one stepping forward. I'm brought back to life by a sharp pain in my left arm. I look down and see that Lizza is pinching me really, _really_ hard.

"Sorry." She says. She looks so upset. "You have to go up though, Fran." This makes both her tears and mine fall. I hadn't even realised that I was welling up, but the tears are now burning down my face.

I nod to her and then walk with very mechanical, robotic movements towards the stage as if I'm on autopilot. The steps seem so tall from this angle. I guess that's what you get for only being about 5 feet tall. Why am I so short? I hike up the steps and join Tabatha at the top.

"Hello darling!" She says, relieved that I finally appeared.

"Hello. I'm Fran." I say in a dead voice, holding out my hand. She shakes it and her hands feel soft and smooth and… fake… like plastic. Eugh. Gross.

I can't believe it.

Me. A tribute.

It could be worse – it could be Lizza. At least I can throw a knife and run fast and I can prepare and cook meat. I can probably build a fire, too. I'll focus on edible plants during training and then maybe I'll learn how to climb or something. Suddenly the Games seem a lot less daunting and I can stand a bit straighter, clasp my hands and smile slightly at the crowds. This is important, I'll need sponsors. I have to look on top of things, or I'll die. Hmm. That was easy to come to terms with.

"And the male tribute…" Says Tabatha, trying to surreptitiously adjust her wig and pick a tribute at the same time. "Is…" She says, unfolding the tiny piece of paper.

_**Warp Fiasco, D8**_

__"Warp Fiasco!" Oh my God. I'm going to die. My eyes are prickling – warning me of the tears that are about to appear. I imagine my body in a wooden box and it sends me over the edge into hysteria. I start sobbing and crying all over the place as I begin the long walk up to the stage and join Fran and Tabatha. I shake hands with both of them. I know Fran – she's in my class at school but I've never really talked to her. She smiles at me though so I smile back. Her tears haven't completely dried yet but she looks determined. She's the sort of person that could help my chances of survival.

"Allies?" I say. I sort of expect her to say no, and I wouldn't blame her. If I saw me in my current state, I wouldn't be desperate to get me as an ally. But she nods enthusiastically. Well, it turns I have something that she needs. Probably brains. "Cool." I say, wiping my nose and trying to contain my tears. I see a flash of colour out of the corner of my eye. "I like your headband." I say lamely.

"Thanks. It was a gift from my mother." She says, feeling the strips of bright red, blue and yellow material that are plaited and secured with pins. She thinks about something for a moment, biting her lip and looking at the crowd. Then she looks at me and smiles shyly. "Are you sure you want me as an ally?"

I grin and nod. She returns it easily.

Well, my chances of living through this ordeal just went up. I look at Tabatha who's still nattering on into a microphone. I don't think anyone noticed our little exchange… That's good. We should keep our strategy a secret until we can talk to our mentors, which will be on the train. I wish Tabatha would just stop talking…

_**Francis "Fran" Weaver, D8**_

Tabatha finishes her little speech and the three of us turn into the Justice Building.

The Games will be much easier now that I have an ally. I wasn't actually planning to be part of any alliance because I can't trust anyone in there but I know Warp. He's the quiet, smart kid with the popular twin. And, although it sounds terrible, I know I could overpower Warp if it came to it. I shudder at the thought of planning my ally's death. I'm not even on the train yet and I'm turning into a savage.

I've only been in my room for about 20 seconds when Lizza comes rushing in, hauling a very sympathetic looking Matthew along with her.

"Fran, I'm so sorry that I pinched you, it's just that you weren't moving and I was kind of worried… I read somewhere that it helps-"

"Lizza… it's ok." I love Lizza. I'm going to a place where I'll be forced to fight to the death and probably die myself and she's worried about pinching me a bit hard. I hug her and she buries her face in my hair.

"Fran, I'm sorry about all of this." Says Matthew in a low voice, like he's trying not to cry.

"That's ok, Matthew." I lower my voice so that I'm barely making any noise at all. "Look after her." I say, trying to gesture at Lizza, but it's difficult because she's holding one of my hands and the other is trapped between us. I look up at Matthew and realise how tall he is. I actually have to look up. I'm pretty sure he's the same age as me and Lizza, but how can he be so lanky at 13? He's got at good half foot on me. He awkwardly wraps his arms around me and Lizza and he dwarfs us. It's slightly uncomfortable, but I let it slide.

"Times up." Says a Peacekeeper coming swiftly into the room. Matthew lets me go first, but Lizza seems reluctant to move.

"Do you have a token?" She says quietly into my shirt.

"Yes, I'm taking my headband." I say kindly. She still doesn't move. "Lizza… You have to go…"

"I can't…" She says, crying onto my shoulder. "You can't go."

"I have too…" I say. Matthew comes behind her and loosens her grip on my hand. I hadn't realised, but my fingers are completely numb. Damn, she's actually quite strong.

"Lizza, baby, we have to go." Says Matthew in a really sweet, tender voice that I've never heard him use before. "Lizza, come on." He says, more urgently. The Peacekeeper starts to move in, but Matthew growls – literally growls – at him and just picks Lizza up like she weighs nothing. "Good luck, Fran." He says and then walks out.

"Your family's here, too." Says the Peacekeeper grumpily. He steps out the door and waves Mum and Dad in.

"Honey…" They come forward at once and hug me until Dad sits us on the sofa. We sit so I'm in the middle. "Fran, we were going to tell you earlier… We have some news… We're going to have another baby…" Dad starts to cry, but I don't understand why – this is good. This is happy. I smile at them and feel myself tearing up again.

"I don't believe it. This is fantastic news." I say. _They'll have someone else worth living for_. I think, but it's probably best that I don't add that bit.

"We'll tell her all about you and what happened." Says Mum as if to comfort me.

"Not until she's old enough to fully understand, though." I say and then I realise something else. "_She?_ Is it a girl for sure then?"

"We don't know." Says Dad. The first words he's spoken since the Reaping. "We can only hope for another girl… just like you…"

He's asking for a lot there: A girl who throws knives and cuts up meat. A girl who doesn't mind being covered in blood a lot of the time. A girl who understands why she has to get up in the morning and does it, no matter how much she hates it.

"…I'm one of a kind…" I say after a long pause.

Dad chuckles under his breath. "That's for Goddamn sure." He says, and then sighs. "You can win though, Fran. All the things I taught you. Knives and cleavers and fires… You can do it, I know you can."

I nod, not sure how to let him down kindly. I probably can't win this, but I'll try. We just sit hugging for the rest of our time, until the Peacekeeper comes in almost begging them to leave. He obviously doesn't want another 'Lizza' situation. I think of one last thing I need to ask of them.

"Mum, Dad?" They both turn again and wait. "Please could you call her something pretty?" They both smile, exchange a glance and then Mum speaks.

"We were going to call her Irene… She was the Goddess of peace and serenity." She says. They both look at me, awaiting approval. Then I'm crying silently, choking back the sobs.

"It's beautiful." Then I put on my business voice that I sometimes use with customers. "I approve!" I declare. They both laugh and leave. "Irene…" I say quietly to myself. It's so pretty. And peace… that's what we need in Panem…

Peace and serenity.


	11. District 9 Reaping

_Hello all. This chapter was kind of fun to write once I got into the swing of it, but it was extraordinarily hard to start for some reason. I don't think I prepared these characters well enough so when I started writing I had very little idea of where I was taking it, so I'm sorry if anything doesn't make sense, just whack me a PM and tell me :)_

_On a completely different note, I have a maths GCSE exam tomorrow that I should be revising for and a science resit on the 12th and then another science exam on the 15th. I'm actually quite nervous about the science ones so a prayer or two wouldn't go amiss if you have a mo' :)_

_So I hope you enjoy this chapter, _

_Dizzy xx_

_P.S That was an exceedingly long note, sorry!_

_P.P.S Second update in two days? I must be putting off revision..._

**Chapter 10: **District 9, Reaping Day

_**Rye Miller, D9**_

I wake up from my recurring dream with the same thought as every other morning: _Should I volunteer?_ My sensible side immediately rejects the idea, telling me that it's suicidal and I'd die and I probably would, but I have a weird, morbid curiosity about the Games which is seen as mad in the District, so much so that my mother actually took me to the apothecary to see if there was anything he could do. He just said that I had serious mental issues and ordered me to wear this funny plastic bracelet 24/7. It says _'mentally deranged'_ on it, which I think is a bit harsh, considering that I can think and read and write. Just because I want to experience the adrenaline that comes with running for your life. My friend, Samantha, says that she could help me with that if I lend her my scythe. I may be _mentally deranged_, but I know sarcasm when I see it. And Sam's about as subtle as a flying brick.

Today's Reaping Day though so I need to make a decision about what I'm going to do today: Volunteer or stay away from the Games. I think about it for about 10 minutes before coming up with the conclusion that I'll see who is Reaped and if it's some pathetic 12 year old then I'll volunteer but if it's a beefy 18 year old, they can go ahead for this year and I'll try again next year. Equally, if it's someone my age, I'll volunteer. My age or younger = volunteer. Older = don't volunteer.

I rush downstairs to tell Mum my breakthrough, but she doesn't seem as excited by the prospect as I am. This gets under my skin and I get annoyed.

"Couldn't you at least be happy for me? The odds are still not in my favour. I'm only 15 so the chance of someone younger than me being Reaped is 4 out of 7 so the chance that I'm going to the Games is therefore 4 out of 7. And the chances of me not going to the Games are 3 out of 7. So that makes it about half and half." I say, getting louder and louder as she just stands there shaking her head. Why can't she let me have this one moment? She's so selfish! I turn and flounce out of the room and take refuge in my wardrobe. It's quite comfortable in here actually.

I did everything I could to be Reaped naturally - I've taken tesserae every year since I was 12, but I've been cursed with a small family. Just me and my parents alone in this house with my _16_ entries. I know a lot of people have loads more than 16, but they're generally the people who would waste the opportunity of the Games and I just wish that they could have the tesserae and I could have the entries. This sounds completely illogical, but if I get Reaped naturally, then no one can complain about me going because it was totally fair.

"Rye… could you come here, please?" Says my Mum quietly from the kitchen. I reluctantly crawl from my hiding place, knocking clothes and shoes everywhere in the process. I just ignore them and carry on out of my room and down the hall, stopping at the mirror to make sure my hair isn't too ruffled. Not a single dirty blonde strand out of place. Great.

"What?" I say rudely as I slump against the counter.

"You know what." She says staring at me with tear filled eyes.

"No, I don't."

"You can't go to the Games. It would break your father's heart."

"And what if I _want_ to go? Don't I get a say in it? And I'd be saving some other girl's life! What's so bad about this plan?" I demand furiously.

"_We'd_ lose you!" She shouts. It's strange, she doesn't seem angry – just desperate and distressed, but she's never cared about me before so why should she start now? I bet they wouldn't even notice if I went off to die.

"So what? You obviously don't care!" I scream and stomp to the door, shutting it with unnecessary force behind me. I'll feel bad about that later. Maybe. I need

I don't have anywhere to go now and no friends I need to see so I just walk around the District, visiting the grain fields to the East and the processing factories where Mum and Dad work and the park – a tiny patch of knee high grass. I've always liked the park, no matter how overgrown it is, so I lie down and rearrange the grass so that I can't be seen at all. I'm good at disappearing into the background. I start to think – that's something else I'm good at, just idling away time calmly and productively by contemplating important issues. How should I volunteer? Run desperately to stage and push the poor girl behind me? Raise my hand and then go to stage quietly? Make an impression by shouting and running and looking dangerous?

Another thought comes to me: _I'm going to need sponsors._

So I need to make some sort of impression and it doesn't matter how I do it.

I'll put on a memorable performance. I'll make it look like I really, _really_ care for the life of a child. I'll show the whole of Panem that I am kind and caring and willing to sacrifice myself for someone I love, or vaguely know for that matter as there's no one I really love that's likely to be chosen. But that's what I'll do. That'll be my play. I'll be the caring family friend or something. Cool. I just hope that my mentor agrees with this strategy.

A bell goes off in the distance so I stand up and brush myself off, picking bits of grass out of my hair as I walk to the Square.

_Welcome_, I think as I enter the Square, _to the show._

_**Aston Goren, D9**_

"Carrie!" I shout gently calling her back to me. "Don't get too far away!" And just like that she's right next to me again.

"Sorry, As. I just want to get this over and done with." She says, making a conscious effort to slow her feet down. Her face is contorted with concentration as she stares at her feet, keeping a steady beat.

"I know you do, but you need to stay with me until we get there, ok?" I say softly. Carrie's my little sister. She's a bit of a wimp and not very strong but I love her very much indeed. I think most siblings love each other deep down, but some mask it with rough exteriors. I don't do that with Carrie, I tell her how much I love her even though she thinks I'm lying. She says she loves me back as well and I'm dreading the time when she hits that age. The age that it's 'cool' to hate your family. She's not got much to hate though. Mum and Dad were announced as 'unfit' to take care of us and they were taken to the Capitol and we were put in our Aunt's house. She's a nice woman but she's a bit eccentric. She's only 26 years old, which makes her 9 years older than me. It's weird to think that my official carer is so young. And she insists we call her Jammy (short for Jamaya, her first name).

"Aston…" Says Carrie as we enter the Square.

"Yes?" I reply, walking slower so she can ask whatever she needs to before we reach the 12s section, where she'll leave me.

"What if I get picked?" She says, absolutely terrified by the possibility. My brotherly instinct cuts in.

"You won't be picked." I say and immediately regret it. I'm asking for trouble if I just say things like that for definite. What if she does? She won't be prepared for it. "Well… in all honesty, you might, but it's very unlikely. You're 12 and you only have 3 extra tesserae slips." I say, my voice hardening naturally towards the end. I've still not forgiven her for that. She told me about 4 days ago that she took tesserae because I looked skinny and she wanted me to eat properly.

"I'm sorry, Aston, you looked skinny!" She says for what must be the 100th time.

"I know, Carrie. You were trying to help me." This has been my standard response every time as well because there's no point trying to explain why I'm so afraid for her. She's my reason for living. If she weren't here, I'd probably just give up.

Just then a Peacekeeper comes and prods me in the back to get me moving. I squeeze Carrie's hand once more as a reassurance and then I make my way further down the aisle to the 17s section, where I stand in a group of boys from my neighbourhood. We all nod tensely at each other and then turn to face the stage, where Ramona Draper is towering over the mayor and previous victors. Literally towering. She had surgery a few years ago to make her taller (because she's had enough of wearing 6 inch heels and still only being 5 foot) but they over did it slightly and now she's 7 feet 8 inches tall. Her entire body is shrouded in a silver cape but underneath, I see a hint of hot pink. Maybe she'll reveal what's underneath as a kind of party trick.

"Morning, all of District 9!" She starts in her high voice. I hear that sentence every single year on the same day but it still shocks me that they treat death like a… well, a Game. She doesn't get any response from the crowd as usual but ploughs on with as much enthusiasm as she had to start with. "So, we all know why we're here, so let's crack on shall we?"

She turns to the Reaping Bowl to her left and strides purposefully over to it – her extraordinarily long legs making her walk twice as fast as any normal person. She picks a name and unfolds it with 2 quick, practised movements. She looks confused for a second and then looks to the mayor who tells her that she's started with the boys.

"Oh. My apologies, ladies, you'll have to wait." She says, then grins to them and winks as if she has a great secret. She looks back at the paper and clears her throat. "Aston Goren!"

_Who'll look after Carrie?_ Is my first thought, which is totally ridiculous because she'll have our Aunt, whereas in the Arena, I'll have no one. Not a soul to rely on.

Well, there's nothing I can do about it, I just have to accept my fate and move because now everyone's staring at me, waiting for me to go to stage or cry or make some act of defiance. But instead of acting up or throwing a tantrum, l calmly walk to stage, my arms swinging at my sides – the picture of serenity. Carrie however is making no such efforts. She's kicking and screaming as the Peacekeepers drag her back to her section and despite the legal ramifications that basically assaulting a Peacekeeper entails I'm quite proud of her actually because she managed to get all the way to the steps, dodging Peacekeepers and running as fast as she could, before about 10 of them closed in and carried her off. There's no need to pray that she's ok, because I can hear her shrieking expletives at everybody she sees. I smile to myself and wonder where she learnt language like that – she has the mouth of a sailor!

"Yes… Well. A few lessons on manners would not go amiss, young lady." Says Ramona snootily. I have to try really hard to suppress a laugh because Carrie is normally so sweet and gentle and kind – it's just that Ramona has seen her at an awful time. "Moving on…" She says, throwing one last stern look at Carrie which Carrie hisses – actually hisses like a cat – at. My grin gets even wider and I nod approvingly at her. I'm so proud of her. That's weird. I'm proud of my little sister swearing and hissing. I need my brain testing.

"Yes, anyway. The ladies' Reaping." I hadn't notice the absence of the usual Reaping Day tension until it came back. It seems that everyone relaxed a little bit during Carrie's little interlude, but the silence could be cut with a knife. It's so edgy and nervous. Ramona struts to the other Reaping Bowl and digs around for a slip. She smoothes the paper out and clears her throat again.

"Oh… this _is_ bad luck… _Carrie_ Goren." She says. I can't believe my ears. This is too much. My body seems to come to the same conclusion and just collapses in on itself, knees buckling and head lolling. My little Carrie. Sweet Carrie. Then it hits me.

_It's rigged! _

This conclusion is the only possible reason that we could both be chosen and it gives me the strength to leap up, my face peeling away from the wooden stage and I stand tall as I shout my explanation to the entire nation.

"It's rigged!" I shout, pointing at the glass bowl. "Look!" Without really thinking about what I'm going, I run over to the bowl and throw my hand in. I take the slip off the top because if it's rigged then all of them will say Carrie Goren on them. Whilst I'm fumbling to unfold it, Ramona places a hand on my shoulder, which I shake of rather more violently than I intended and she stumbles backwards. I finally get the damn slip open and my heart sinks.

_Holly Garner, 18 years old. _

I was wrong. It wasn't rigged and now I look like a fool but more importantly, Carrie is going to the Games with me.

_Please, _anyone_, volunteer! _I think frantically.

And a God appears in the form of a petite, dirty blonde teenage girl.

_**Rye Miller, D9**_

This could not be more perfect. Aston even set up my little scene with one of his own which means if we end up being allies, we'll both be remembered. I wonder if he planned his.

I started running forward as soon as Aston's face fell apart, showing the truth to everyone who's watching – it was not rigged at all. I run and run and run until I catch up with Carrie (who had a head start because she started stumbling forward as soon as her name was announced) and I grab her arm, effectively stopping her and spinning her around at the same time. I pull her into a hug and whisper in her ear.

"I'm making it look like I know you because this will get me and your brother sponsors. Go with it and see me in the Justice Building." Is what I mumble softly to her, my face buried in her hair, meaning no one can lip read what I'm saying. I pull away and hold her at arms length. She nods.

"Thank you." She says, tears glistening on her cheeks.

"That's ok, Carrie. Behave while we're away." I say and wink. She hugs me once more around the middle and jogs back to her section, wiping her tears away. Either she's a very good actress, or today has been far too stressful for her young mind.

I join Aston on stage (he's quite handsome actually and really, _really_ tall; almost 6 foot I reckon) and he looks at me like I'm his guardian angel or something so I hug him, too. I have to keep up appearances and if he ruins this for us, nothing will come of it and we'll both die sooner, which can't happen – I kind of want Aston to win and come home to Carrie – so I stretch up and whisper in his ear as well.

"Go with it. I'll explain on the train. Don't ruin this." I finish in a much harsher voice that I used with Carrie but I barely move my lips because he hasn't got long enough hair to hide me.

"Ok. Thank you." He whispers to me.

"Anytime." I say and we pull apart. I turn to Ramona and I'm startled by how very tall she is. She's giant! "Hello, sorry about that." I say, gesturing at myself then at Aston. "I'm Rye Miller. I'm volunteering, if you didn't guess." I laugh and Ramona joins in. Aston tries to join in as well, but he's too late so I just shake my head and smile kindly at him. His bad acting skills are going to get us killed.

"Well, District 9, I give you your Tributes for the 30th Annual Hunger Games!" She says, clapping her hands excitedly. Some of the crowd join in but most of them just turn and leave the Square. "Shall we go and say goodbye?"

"Marvellous." I say, mimicking her accent perfectly and bobbing inside after her. At the last minute, I grab Aston's hand and pull him along because he seems unable to grasp the concept that we need to go inside now. "Come on, Aston, Carrie will be waiting." This seems to stir him long enough that we can get him to his room and then Ramona takes me to mine.

"That was very brave of you, Rye." She says.

"Well, Carrie and Aston are my friends and I couldn't let sweet little Carrie go in and fight for her life." I'm improvising all of this because a) I don't actually know either of them at all, b) I have to continue the act now that I've started it and c) I'm not sure that Carrie is so sweet. She's got one hell of a foul mouth.

"Oh. Friendship conquers all!" She says, then trots merrily out of the room and leaves me alone with my thoughts. I twist my plastic bracelet on my wrist and have a moment of doubt.

_Did I do the right thing?_

_**Aston Goren, D9**_

That girl saved my sister so whatever either of us does in the Arena, I'll be forever in her debt. She saved Carrie. How could I kill her now? Oh Carrie, you've been through too much in 12 years of life.

And as though my thoughts had summoned her, Carrie appears with our Aunt, tears streaming down both of their faces, but Carrie looking more hopeful. Why?

"Aston, you have to trust Rye." She says straight off.

"Rye? Was that her name?" I say and then feel instantly guilty. This girl saved Carrie and I didn't even listen to her name. I feel like I have to explain myself to Carrie. "I was a bit preoccupied when she said…"

"Yes. She's Rye. You have to trust her though, Aston, she's going to help you." She says certainly. "But be careful around her. Did you see her bracelet?" She adds as an after thought. I saw that she was wearing one, but I didn't pay much attention to it.

"Jewellery isn't my primary concern today, Carrie." I say, running a hand self consciously through my wavy brown hair. I feel bad because I haven't been paying attention to Rye when all she's done all day is help me out time after time.

"It wasn't jewellery." She says seriously, shaking her head. "It was a medical bracelet. It said _'mentally deranged'_ on it. I saw when she had her hand on my shoulder." Mentally deranged? That doesn't sound good. "But she seems nice and she's brave to volunteer for me… You should give her a chance to explain before you decide to avoid her. And you should team up with her… Ally with her." Ally? Is she crazy? I can't ally with anyone. I'll just get attached.

"I'm not sure I can do that. I couldn't kill Rye if it came to it." I say, regretting how weak I sound. I'll have to kill – I know this much – but I just don't want to kill Rye if I can help it.

"You have to. When she hugged me she whispered that she was doing it to get you sponsors. She'll only be helpful. And she's only proved useful so far." Says Carrie. I realise that she's right and that there's nothing that would help me more than being in an alliance with Rye. Hopefully someone else will… do the honours before I have to. The thought repulses me.

"Ok, Carrie. I'll ally with her." She grins at me and hugs me. "Who knows? Maybe you'll come home!" She says eagerly.

"Maybe. But if I don't, don't be too upset for too long, ok? Get on with your life and be happy." I look at my aunt who's just sat on the sofa staring at us. Me and her keep looking at each other awkwardly until she finally speaks.

"I see so much of your mother in both of you." She says. That seems like a somewhat random thing to say since my mother was taken nearly 8 years ago now. I never think of her as my mother's sister because she had almost nothing to do with us until the Peacekeepers took us to her. Of course, she _is_ my mother's sister and she lost just as much when Mum was taken as we did. I never thought of it like that before. "Good luck, Aston." She says and then walks out. I look at Carrie.

"Is it normal for people to leave before they have to?" She asks me. I'm wondering the same thing so I just shrug. We sit there for a few seconds in awkward silence until I can't bear it anymore so I start tickling her. She giggles and squirms, trying to push me away. In the end she just hits me repeatedly until I stop. Then we sit together on the sofa hugging until the Peacekeeper comes in and tells Carrie to leave. The sight of the Peacekeeper reminds me…

"Carrie, I'm proud of you, by the way. The way you ran this morning was great and your dodging skills are coming along great." I say. She smiles at me again and then I think she realises that this will probably be the last time we ever see each other because her eyes flood with tears and she runs to hug me again. I hug her tightly until the Peacekeeper pokes me with his gun. "Goodbye Carrie. Live well." I say and gently push her towards the door.

Just before she leaves, she straightens up and tosses her hair over her shoulder. I hear her sniff once and then she leaves, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

I hear her say to the Peacekeeper: "I need to talk to Rye… is that ok?" But she says it in such a tone of voice that even I would be afraid of telling her she couldn't and, sure enough, I hear the Peacekeeper mumble something about it being against protocol but he won't say anything if she doesn't.

I smile again. My sister's manipulating a Peacekeeper. Good on her.


	12. District 10 Reaping

_Hey everyone. I tried to get this up last night but my internet was down. Screw you, BT. Here are the District 10 Reapings. If you have any questions about anything, just review or PM, as always :) _

_Dizzy xx_

_P.S All my exams went ok apart from one where my phone alarm went off. Oops :) xx_

**Chapter 11:** District 10, Reaping Day

_**Jay Freescott, D10**_

Something tickles my chin, jolting me from my peaceful sleep into a stuffy room full of children and stifled giggling.

"Kiyana, wake him _gently_." Says a whispering voice. So it's Kiyana who's waking me up, her typical 'Freescott hair' (long and straight and ginger) brushing my face.

"Shhh…" She says to someone talking outside the door. "We have to wake him gently!" She whispers. I can sense this rude awakening coming… She takes a huge breath and… "WAKEY WAKEY!" She yells in her high-pitched child's voice. She's only 9 years old, so she's completely free of the terror of the Reaping, giving her zero sensitivity when this time of year comes around. I lurch up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Wow! Kiyana, how can you move so quietly?" I ask, staring at her in fake awe. Robyn, my twin sister, who's one of the background voices, shakes her head at me disapprovingly. She thinks that by going along with their tricks, we're stopping them developing properly. Yeah, right. I love Robyn but boy can she be clueless.

"Gotcha!" Kiyana pipes. Bless her. She hugs me around the neck, smooshing her cheek into mine. I hug her back for a second then shove her gently off me, saying how we need to get breakfast ready and she can help if she's quick. This causes her to squeal in excitement and skip off down the hall. Now she's gone I can let my actual fatigue show. My spine curves and my eyelids droop. Everything's quiet… I could just go back to sleep… Back to the candy coloured dreamland I was in before…

"You've already had a lie-in." Says Robyn dropping onto the edge of my bed. I jump and my eyes fly open. While Kiyana tries to move quietly and fails miserably, Robyn can actually move with making a single sound, which is disconcerting when you think you're alone with your eyes closed. She knows where the creaky floorboards are and how to avoid them, she knows which hinges squeak and which bedsprings groan – she can move like a shadow. But shadows aren't much use in District 10.

"Lie-ins only count if you know you're having them." I say, swinging my legs off my bed and standing up.

"True." She says and then slinks off down the hall without another word.

I walk into the kitchen and look around the table. My other siblings are there with our parents and Dad's parents. I don't know why they're all just sat there; they could at least start getting some of the breakfast things out or dividing up jobs. Once again, parenthood falls on my young shoulders.

"Ok, we need this to be efficient, Freescotts!" I say in my usual 'pep talk' tone. "Robyn, get the milk. Caitlin, stop annoying Max and get knives. Max, you get forks. Sophia, plates please. Kiyana, stop combing your hair and get a jug of water for the table. Belle, grab a few cups. Andrew, help Izzy with her shoe laces, she's obviously struggling." I always go from oldest to youngest because it helps me think and make sure I haven't missed anyone. Mum's breastfeeding Raven who's just 9 months so I leave them to it and talk to Dad, Grandma and Granddad. "Are you all ready for the Reaping?" I ask, wondering why I have to look after them when it should be the other way round.

"Yes, we're ready sweetie. You're doing a great job." Says Grandma. I smile at her and go to get the oats.

It always has to be me who gets the oats otherwise the others would see that there is far too much there to make any sense. I pick a tablespoon out of the drawer and fetch the box of oats. I know exactly how much there is in here. There are 14 portions of tesserae grain. That's how much I brought back from the Justice Building yesterday. I had to take tesserae for _14 _this year. Traditionally District 10 families are big, but when does it become too much?

As soon as I open the box of oats, however, I know something is wrong. There's too much in there. There's no one else in this house that has enough of a conscience to take tesserae… except…

"Robyn…" I say calmly, but loud enough for her to hear. She straightens up from tying Izzy's laces and looks at me… then the box… "Can you come here, please…?" She walks over with a guilty expression. "Have you taken tesserae?" I ask outright, sounding angrier than I meant to. Anger flashes in her eyes as well.

"Well you took it! It's only fair that I took it too!"

She knew that I took tesserae and she felt obliged to take it too. Am I that easy to read?

"You… How did you know?" I ask, faltering slightly. I always thought I was a good liar.

"Oh, please. How long have we been twins, Jay?" She says. "I do pay some attention to you, believe it or not." I do actually find that hard to believe, she never has before. Not that I've noticed anyway…

"How did you get it in there without me noticing?" I whisper.

"I normally do it in the night. I'm a creature of the night." She says lightening up and winking at me. How can she take this so lightly?

"I'm such an idiot." I say.

"Yep."

"How did I not see?"

"You never see…"

"Why would you take it?"

"Well I could never take care of them like you did. I thought it would be fair."

"So…" I can hardly bring myself to ask the next question. "How many…"

"Slips do I have?" She finished. I just nod and wait. I can see her visualising our family at different stages, watching it grow and counting… always counting… "59…" 59. The same as me. Together we have 118. That does not put the odds in our favour. "118, right? Not good."

"Not good…" I repeat solemnly. "Not good at all…"

"Jay!" Says Caitlin angrily from the table. She's at that awkward, adolescent stage at the moment. "Are we going to actually get food before the Reaping?"

"Of course, Caitlin." I say, and dish out 14 portions of oats that Robyn helps me carry to the table. "Might as well enjoy it." I say quietly to her as we take the final plates over.

"Definitely." She mutters back to me, and promptly delves into her breakfast.

We all eat in silence for a few minutes until Dad speaks from the other end of the table.

"That was excellent, thank you Jay." He says kindly, and before I can get a single word in, he's carrying on. "Are you ready for the Reaping?"

"No, me and Robyn still need to get dressed." I need to talk to Robyn too, that's why I included her.

"Ok, you can both go and get ready while we wash up."

"Fabulous." Says Robyn and she trots off to her room. I follow her but she shuts her door so I can't go in. However she wants it.

_**Robyn Freescott, D10**_

I'm almost offended that Jay thought I wouldn't take tesserae. Am I really that uncaring? Sure, I'm not very good with the younger children so I try to keep my distance but I still care if they go to bed hungry. I don't want any of them to suffer like Jay and I did when we were younger.

I'd better get ready for the Reaping.

I start by completely undressing and standing in front of my dresser in my underwear, looking for my Reaping outfit – the black shirt and trousers – and slip them on. Then I start combing my hair. Another reason I hate being a Freescott is that people know I'm a Freescott just by looking at my hair. We're literally the only ginger family in District 10, meaning that people know us immediately. I'm just trying to get some volume into it when I hear the door click open behind me. It's so annoying how loud everyone in this house is.

"Hello." I say, not even bothering to go along with this sibling's games.

"Hey, Rob-Rob." Says Belle, wandering into my room. Belle's my favourite. I know you shouldn't have favourites among your siblings, but Belle is the most sensible and she's mature beyond her years so she's ok to be around.

"Hey Belle, what's up?" I say.

"I'm scared…" That stops me short. She's scared. Huh?

"Belle… You're 7. Why are you scared?" I say, picking her up and sitting her on the bed next to me.

"I'm scared for you and Jay, Rob." I hate it when she calls me Rob – it's too masculine – but I go along with it today because it's Reaping day. "And for Caitlin and Max."

"You don't need to worry." I say reassuringly. "It's Caitlin's third and Max's second, so they won't be scared." They will be scared. _I'm_ scared. No matter how many Reapings you experience, you still get scared, but she's 7 so this might be a bit deep for her.

"I'll still worry, no matter what." She says, sitting straight. "Can you brush my hair, Rob? I love it when you do my hair." Actually, I have to get ready for my Reaping, but maybe if I do hers quickly, I'll still have time to make mine look half-decent. So I start brushing her beautiful hair while she tells me about what she's been doing at school. Her hair is so much prettier than the rest of ours. Hers is a much darker red, and hers is curly, which is so much more tasteful than mine. Mine is pale ginger, which everyone tells me is cute, but I hate it. Jay has the same but he doesn't mind it.

"And she confiscated it even though it was show and tell. That's hardly fair, is it?" Says Belle, breaking me from my reverie. I just grumble noncommittally, which she seems to accept. But then everything's quiet so I feel like I have to say something.

"When's your show and tell turn?" I ask her. It seems like something a big sister would ask.

"In about a month. Aaaages away." She says. I reach to ruffle her hair in a kind of reassuring way, but she hits my hand away, giggling. "You just brushed it!" She says with mock anger.

"Sorry, Belle. Sisterly instinct." I say back, smiling.

Just then, Jay speed walks past my door saying, "Freescotts! Line up!" He says this whenever we need to go out together. I think it makes him feel useful. When he says 'line up' he really means 'Come and stand in age order by the front door so I can make sure you're all presentable'. And that's what he means now. Damn! I've not done my own hair yet. I leap up, dragging the brush through my own hair, desperately trying to get the knots out

"Come on, Belle." I say, running past her and grabbing her hand. We're the first two to arrive at the front door so we slip on our shoes and stand in our places. I'm closer to the top end of the line than the bottom. Only Grandma, Granddad, Mum and Raven, Dad and Jay will be in front of me, but Jay will step out of line and basically analyse what everyone's wearing.

Eventually, the whole family is lined up and Jay starts checking what everyone is wearing, starting at the younger end of the line.

"Izzy, beautiful. Perfect. Andrew… You look like a proper gentleman!" It goes on and on until he finally reaches me. "Robyn… what have you done to your hair?" I stand up a bit straighter and tilt my chin up, making me look snobby, but I don't really care. "What have you been doing all morning?"

"Nothing. My hair's fine." I run my fingers through it, encountering no knots which I am eternally grateful for. That would've looked stupid.

"Could you go and brush it?" He asks. He says it kindly though, which just infuriates me even more than if he'd said it angrily.

"Would you like me to bow as well, Prince Jay?" I ask sarcastically.

"If you like." Hmm. That's not the reaction I was looking for. I just stand there pouting and staring him down, hoping for some inspiration come-back-wise. Nothing comes so I just storm off back to my room, picking up my hairbrush and yanking it through my hair again. There aren't even any knots! I look around desperately for some sort of clip or bobble that I can sort it with but there isn't anything. Jay can just accept my hair how it is. But I have another plan. One that involves one of my talents.

I creep down the hall, stalking Jay like he's my prey. Belle's seen what I'm doing but she's an incredible actress and completely hides the giggles that are brewing under her calm façade. I raise the hairbrush and throw it at him, hitting him squarely on the arm exactly where I was aiming for. I love moving quietly. It makes me feel like some sort of cat, sneaking around. Maybe a lynx. I like that. Or a vixen. That'd be cool. I have the hair for it. Speaking of hair…

"Is my hair alright now, Prince?" I say, swooping into a low curtsey. He knows that he's lost this game now and rather than taking it like a man or insulting me back, he skulks off to the front door and steps out. We all follow him, still laughing. At the last minute, I realise I still have the hairbrush so I just throw it back in, where it lands in the middle of the hall. It looks messy, but I don't care enough to go back and sort it.

Jay joins me at the back of the group.

"I'll get you back for that." He says under his breath.

"I'm sure you will your highness." I say back.

"And no, by the way your hair is no better." He says. I storm off.

_**Jay Freescott, D10**_

Robyn sulks off and walks with Belle and Caitlin, who are talking about a boy in Caitlin's class that she apparently likes. I'll have to monitor that situation before it gets out of hand. I can almost hear Robyn telling me that we need to let them mature naturally.

I was just kidding when I said that about her hair. Granted, I wasn't kidding before but then she hit me with her hairbrush and I needed to get her back, but I was just kidding! Why do girls always take things so seriously?

I've not spoken to Robyn calmly and kindly for weeks now. Every time I ask her something she either takes it too seriously or not seriously at all. She either completely flips out at me or wanders off, mumbling something like: _'Could you please not waste my time, Jay? Grumble grumble, complain complain…' _I've got to fix this – we're twins for God's sake, we should be happy and do stuff together rather than avoiding each other all the time. Of course, Reaping Day might not be the best time to do something fun together, but we could make plans. I just need to get this line of communication back up.

"Robyn, could you come here, please?" I shout forwards to where she's now with Sophia and Kiyana. She turns around and gives me a suspicious look. Great.

"What do you want?" She asks warily. "If it's about tesserae again, there's nothing we can do now."

"No, not tesserae. Just wanted to talk to you. About anything." I say. There's silence for a few seconds and then she bursts into speech, telling me every detail of what's been happening at school and at home and the District gossip (which I normally miss out on because I'm looking after the kids). I've never really realised how much missed Robyn.

_**Robyn Freescott, D10**_

Jay is being… _nice_. He's not normally nice. Well he is, but it's more in a patronizing way than an actually caring way – like he looks down on me rather than seeing me as his twin. I'm just chattering on at him at the moment so he can't change his mind and send me back to Kiyana and Sophia. As much as I love them, I do enjoy having sophisticated conversations sometimes. Once I'm finished though, the conversation doesn't stop; he just questions me more and more about each story that I told him until we reach the Square.

"Come on." Jay says to me and we go to sign in.

"Stand by the aisle." I say and enter my section, standing as close to the aisle as I can without actually leaving my area. He does the same, mirroring my pose as well. He changes whenever I change which just makes me laugh as I do stupid, girly things to embarrass him. He never falters though and copies me, no matter what.

Too soon though, Fratelli Angelisto takes to stage and starts her speech. Her outfit's quite normal by her usual standard, just a baby pink trouser suit with a magenta wig. Maybe she's trying to be subtle this year. All through her little rant, Jay and I continue with our little game. We carry on right through the ceremony, bringing some happiness to the horrible proceedings. I completely miss her announcement that she's now drawing the name, and I'm not paying attention when she reads off the paper. The only thing I'm aware of is the fact that Jay has stopped copying me and is now staring at me like I'm about to drop dead. I look around and everyone else is staring too. The camera finds me soon enough. It's not difficult – I'm the redhead being stared down by a mass of brunettes and blondes. I shrink back from the collective gaze.

"Are you," she pauses to look at the slip. "Robyn Freescott?" I look back at Jay and just stare at him. This can't happen now, just when I've got my brother back. I don't even notice when the Peacekeepers grab me and bundle me to the front unceremoniously. I can't fight them; I just twist my head and keep gaping at Jay. He looks as though he's about to cry.

"Hello, Robyn." Says Fratelli when the Peacekeepers plonk me on the stage next to her.

"Hello." I say, still in shock. I'm vaguely aware of everyone in the Square (and probably in Panem) staring at me, but I just keep staring unblinking at Jay, who's staring right back. Suddenly, he point at Fratelli and mouths _'talk!'_ at me. "Hello." I blurt out. I sound stupid, but it was the first thing that came into my head. "Sorry." I laugh breathily. "That was a bit of a shock." Everyone just stares at me. I see Jay face-palm. What? He said talk. I talked. What's the matter with that? "Erm… so…." I've not got anything else to say. "A gay baby is born…?"

Fratelli gasps and stares at me like I've just committed some sort of social suicide.

Great. Now I sound homophobic, too.

_**Jay Freescott, D10**_

"A gay baby is born…?" Says Robyn. When I told her to talk, I really meant say something sane and flattering to win sponsors, not make a homophobic comment to be broadcast to the whole nation. Granted, it'll get her remembered, but not in a good way. It won't win her sponsors, but it might win her haters.

"Well, that seems a bit unnecessary!" Says Fratelli indignantly.

"No, I didn't mean that, honestly…" Says Robyn, coming back from whatever crazy-land she was in and trying to negate her little commercial. But no one believes her, least of all Fratelli.

"Well maybe we should move on!" She says coldly and disapprovingly. Fratelli stomps off to the boys' bowl and snags a slip. "Jay Freescott!" She says, still obviously angry and then freezes, realising what just happened. Two siblings were Reaped. Even worse, a pair of twins was Reaped. Me and my sister. Us. Again, as with Robyn, everyone turns and stares at me. A lot of people are crying, feeling sorry for us. I could name 12 people who are crying rather loudly. Our family.

How should I react? Shocked? Angry? Worried about Robyn? Well, at the moment, I'm feeling all of that, so none of them would really be a huge task to pull off... I'll act calm for now until I can talk to my mentor and we'll decide how to play it. I walk to stage cool as a cucumber and stand next to Fratelli and Robyn. I shake Fratelli's hand and then hold out my hand to Robyn. She takes it, kisses it then curtseys again.

"Prince Jay." Everyone just stares at us.

"Robyn." I say snootily. She turns away from me slightly, hands on hips and chin in the air, trying to hide her grin. As I was doing before, I copy her stance, which makes her laugh, but I also see some tears blossoming, making her brown eyes swim. "Shall we go in, Fratelli?" I same amicably, trying to get on her good side.

"Yes, of course." She says, smiling at me then frowning at Robyn. Fratelli needs to understand that we're a team. The sooner she realises that, the sooner we'll all get on.

_**Robyn Freescott, D10**_

Jay saves me from the embarrassment of crying on live television by suggesting we go into the Justice Building, which Fratelli goes along with. But I think she agreed because she was losing the attention of the crowd and because it had started spitting. Wouldn't want to risk her hair.

"Since you're… well… twins, would you like one room to say goodbye in?" Says Fratelli as she walks quickly ahead of us. I look at Jay and he looks at me, each of us waiting for the other to make a decision.

"Sure." He says at last.

We link arms like we did this morning and skip – literally skip – to our goodbye room. The room they've given us is beautiful. Full of works of art framed with gold and a red sofa in the centre, facing the ornate fireplace. We sit on the sofa, sinking into the cushions and talk some more about what's been happening at school. We talk about one of our teachers, Mrs Carter, who's about 8 months pregnant at the moment. She's absolutely huge and needs help opening doors and she can hardly reach the blackboard over her bump. It's a perfect example that even beautiful things have disadvantages. Like being in this room. We only get to enjoy it to say goodbye to our family. Speaking of which…

They burst in crying and snivelling and descend on us, burying us in a mass of sadness and distress that I can't handle. Eventually, they all choose where they're going to sit and just slump, still weeping all over the place. It's like a mass mourning. Me and Jay are squished together in the middle of the sofa with Andrew sprawled across us. Caitlin's on my left with Belle on her knee and Izzy sat on top of them both. Granddad is hugging Grandma on the other side of Jay. Mum's sat on the floor with Dad, clutching Raven to her chest as though someone's going to take him away. Max and Sophia are trying to get Kiyana to stop crying but she just keeps howling and howling. I dread the moment that we have to say a final goodbye. We all know that at least one of us (probably both of us) will not be coming back from the Games.

It's ages later that the Peacekeeper comes in and tries to tell us to finish saying goodbye, but we all just ignore him until Fratelli comes in and tells us that we need to go and then says 'Oh Robyn, don't cry, you'll mess up your pretty face!' I actually feel like murdering her. That's good! I'll try and harness them in my attempt to get Jay home. That's right. I'm going to get Jay as far as I can and then I'll remove myself from the picture. He can win. Our family needs him more than me anyway.

The whole family lines up to say their final goodbyes.

When all my siblings have cried all over me, it's just Mum, Dad Raven and my grandparents. Mum and Dad hug me and Raven tugs on my hair, demanding attention. He's far too young to understand what's going on so he's not crying; he's my favourite at the moment. I kiss him on the forehead and he gurgles happily. I kiss Mum and Dad too and then they leave us. I turn around to say goodbye to Grandma and Granddad. They're the only ones left.

"Sweetie…" She says and hugs me weakly. "Please… take this to the Arena…" She drops a bracelet into my palm which clinks and glitters. Closer inspection tells me that it's a simple chain bracelet with about 10 horseshoe charms on it. If you were raised in District 10, you would know that horse shoes bring luck, which makes this possibly the most valuable token I could ask for. I need a bit of luck.

"Of course, Grandma. Thank you…" She hugs me again and I breathe in the smell of lavender that seems to follow her everywhere.

"Stay safe." She says. She and Granddad hobble out and Jay and I are alone. But we don't make any move towards the door, not even a step, no motion to leave because we both know what's waiting for us out there…

Crowds… The Capitol… The Games… Death…


	13. District 11 Reaping

_Work experience, choir rehearsals, concerts, family friends, parties, exams, assessments, friendship dramas. Just some of the things going on in Dizzy's life at the moment. _

_I'm sorry this took so long :(_

_Dizzy xx_

**Chapter 12:** District 11, Reaping Day

_**Demeter "Demi" Ceres, D11**_

A bell rings out across the District, signifying the end of the morning shift and giving us exactly an hour to prepare for the Reaping. I scurry down from my perch high in the branches of an apple tree, and drop the armful of fruit in my basket. Then I set off running towards The Hut at the other end of the orchard, where I put my morning's work on the counter and step back, gasping. The Peacekeeper takes literally forever counting them and then trying to work out how much money I should get for them. I work on piece rate. That means I get a certain amount for each apple I pick. It's a good way for me to work since I climb higher in the trees than everyone else because I'm so small and light (underfed) so I get all the fruit that other people can't.

It also means the Peacekeepers can't see me so I sometimes eat the odd apple. It seems illogical because then I lose money and my family would suffer but they'd suffer even more if I fainted out of my tree from malnutrition and broke my neck or something. And it's better to die quickly by a Peacekeeper's bullet than starve slowly. Me and Iris agree on this one thing.

It's really weird having a best friend who sees life almost completely differently to you. Iris sees things as mostly happy apart from the Hunger Games, which she can just about stand once a year. Admittedly, she doesn't take too well to the near starvation that we suffer in our District, but she accepts it and works twice as hard, sometimes sneaking bites of apples or calling them rotten when they aren't. I, however, abhor life in Panem. I'm not absolutely rebellious or outspoken about my issues, but they are definitely there… And bubbling closer to the surface each day.

I speed walk back home as quickly as I can without attracting too much attention and slam the door behind me, rushing to the sink to wash off the dirt and pick the leaves out of my hair.

"Hey, Demi." Says Briann, my older brother, leaning on the wall next to the sink and staring at me.

"Hey Briann. What's up?" I ask hurriedly.

"Oh I'm pregnant, nothing to worry about." I just look at him, shaking my head with an unimpressed look on my face. Only Briann would be capable of lying about being pregnant when he's a guy. And probably a virgin. And Christian. "Well it's Reaping day, isn't it? What isn't wrong today?" He says.

"Yeah. We'll be fine though, right? What are the chances?" I say comfortingly. He worries about the wrong things. Yes, there's a chance that one of us could be off to the Games, but there's also the chance that we could starve tomorrow if we don't work hard enough.

"Small. But that chance is still too big when we're talking about my little sister." He says, his face crumpling with concern. I hate it when Briann gets all serious – he's no fun anymore. Just then, Saturn comes wandering in, his face streaked with tears.

"Saturn? What's up?" I ask him, bending down to his level and hugging him.

"Mum's in one of her moods." I stiffen and pull away. Mum's one of the reasons that I hate life in Panem. She was driven almost out of her mind when she lost her first child. He would've been 4 years older than Briann but he died when Mum lost her job. She couldn't feed either of them until he died and the state gave her 'mourning money'. It must have been horrible for her, being able to feed herself only because her baby died. Dad was useless and drunk the entire time.

"Don't worry about her Sat; I'll go talk to her. Do you know where Dad is?" The tension in the room kicks up yet another notch. Geez. I look at Briann and he's staring at the floor, never making eye contact and shuffling his feet. Oh my God. Not again. "Briann…" I say slowly.

"Yes…" He says, glancing at me quickly and then returning to his study of the flagstones.

"Briann. Where is Dad?" I say, staring into his eyes. The door bangs open behind me and I startle, jumping backwards and slamming against the wall. My head smacks against the wood and I'm pretty sure the whole house shakes. "Oww!" I yelp, putting a hand to the back of my head. There's blood. I lie there, just catching my breath, until a huge hand pulls me up by the collar and pushes me back into the wall. I can't stop myself from whimpering as the smell of alcohol washes over me again.

"Stop whimpering, girl." Dad roars in my face, making the stench of spirits nearly unbearable, I stop myself from gagging – that'll only make it worse. Instead I just say nothing and try to control the pain as he punches me in the stomach. I can't fight back – I'm too scared. I'm actually frozen with terror. It's Briann who comes to my rescue, grabbing one of my Reaping shoes off the table and whacking Dad in the temple with it. He goes limp and falls to the floor, out cold. He won't feel the pain. I, on the other hand, definitely feel the pain. I go down with him and huddle on the floor in a tiny ball, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal. I can hear Saturn crying somewhere to my right and Briann trying to comfort him.

"But she's bleeding!" My little brother says between sobs.

"She'll be fine, I promise, Sat. I'll sort her out. Go and get ready for the Reaping!" Briann says urgently. I hear Saturn scurry off into the other room and Briann walks slowly towards me.

"Demi?" He says. "Demi, I need to look at your head, you're losing a lot of blood…"

I just groan at him, hoping he'll get the idea and just leave me alone to control the sharp jabs of pain that are still rushing through me.

"Demi, come on, sit up!" He says more urgently. "If we don't stop the bleeding…" We both know what would happen if he can't stop the bleeding. I'd just die. That can't happen – my family needs me. With this thought at the forefront of my mind, I start to sit up. The pain that I thought was bad before multiplies. My body can't stand it… I drift off into blackness, Briann still repeating my name over and over…

_**Sage Wilmslow, D11**_

"Sage Wilmslow!" She calls.

"Coming, Mum…" I mumble. Mornings… I hate morning. They're so… early…

"Are you up?" She says, bursting into my room and throwing open my curtains. The early morning light blinds me so, naturally, I pull my pillow over my eyes. "No, no, no! You need to get up, Sage. There are only a few hours until the Reaping!" She says, shaking my shoulder gently.

"Sagey!" Shouts Gladdie as she toddles into my room and throws herself across my legs, hugging them and effectively cutting off their blood supply. It won't be long before they go numb.

"Geddout, Gladdie." I say. Unfortunately, my anger is muffled by the pillow still smothering me.

"Pardon?" She giggles in the most annoying way I've heard then rolls so that her face is also buried in my pillow. "_Geddout Gladdie_!" She mimics, still laughing maniacally. I swear she's crazy.

"Come on Gladdie, out you go." Says Mum, tapping Gladdie's behind with her hairbrush.

"Yes, Mum." She says, jumping up and skipping into the other room.

"Sage, really, you need to get up. You have half an hour before the Reaping." She says in an affectionate tone, sitting next to me and stroking my hair tenderly.

I groan and clamber out of bed, throwing the pillow behind me on my way. How does Gladdie toddle around on her 7-year-old legs so quickly and gracefully? I end up stumbling and tripping to the kitchen, where a bowl of hot stew waits for me. I've just about finished when Gladdie comes in, wearing her prettiest pink dress and pumps.

"Very nice, Gladdie. Twirl for me." I say, being much kinder to her now that I'm fully awake and she isn't lying on me. She complies and her skirt flies out into a bell shape. "Aww. Very, very pretty Gladdie." I say.

"What are you wearing today, Sagey?" She asks, gliding over to me and clinging onto my leg like a vice. _Owww._ She's going to break my leg if she's not careful.

"I'm not sure yet, Gladdie. I need to ask Mum." She lets go of my leg and runs ahead of me into the next room.

"Mummyyyyyyyyyyyy!" She cries. "Sagey doesn't know what he's wearing yet. He needs to ask you!" Then she runs back to me and grabs my hand, pulling me to the chair. "SIT!" She commands. I obey quickly, actually scared of the consequences. "Ok, so. A suit? Do you even have a suit, Sagey? No, probably not." She huffs and puts her hands on her hips like Mum sometimes does. "You're clueless, aren't you, Sage?" Again, something that Mum sometimes says. This is going to be a long morning…

_**Demeter "Demi" Ceres, D11**_

"Are you sure you're ok, Demi?" Says Briann yet again. Saturn is standing over Dad, occasionally poking him with his toe. Whatever Briann did, it definitely worked. I'm glad to have a brother like Briann. First he knocked out Dad and now he's sitting with me, checking my wounds and feeding me grain every now and then. Brother doesn't seem like the right word for Briann, he's more than just a brother – he's a friend and protector and carer all in one.

"Yes, Briann, I'm fine, honestly. I really need to get ready for the Reaping." I say, making another attempt to get up from my position on the floor. He just nudges me back down.

"You look fine, considering. I'll tell you when we need to go." Is he suggesting that I go to the Reaping looking like this? Is he serious?

"No, I need to get dressed!" I insist, swatting away his hand and lurching to my feet.

"Fine, but don't try brushing your hair, the wound needs to set." He says as I wobble out of the room.

I'm angry that I'll look so awful for the Reaping. I know I shouldn't care because the only people that will see me are the Capitolites and that's only if I'm chosen, which I won't be, and even if I am, why should I care if they care what I look like? If it's all the same to them, I'd like to look like me if I have to die. I'd want to die with dignity and I'd _definitely_ want to go down fighting.

"Demi…" Says Saturn as he creeps into our room. I'm only half dressed so it does make me slightly uncomfortable that he's here, but he's my little brother and he's probably seen worse.

"What is it, Sat?" I ask, hastily pulling on a shirt and untucking my hair from the collar before kneeling on the floor infront of him and poking his belly.

"It's my fault that Dad hurt you. If I'd just told you where he'd been then maybe you could've prepared yourself for it." He whines. Silly Saturn. Dad would've managed to hurt me anyway, so he shouldn't be blaming himself for it.

"Oh, Saturn. Don't cry, please." I say as I hug him again. "You did everything you could and Briann sorted it anyway. Briann with his violent streaks." I say, remembering the time that Briann beat up a scarecrow because he scored bottom in maths. Saturn nods. "At least he's channelling it into something productive."

"Is nearly killing Dad a good thing, then?" He asks, wiping his eyes.

"Course it is." I shiver, remembering the stink of white spirits and when I continue, it's in a much more serious tone. "Briann might have saved my life today."

"You're welcome." Says Briann offhandedly from the doorway. We grin at each other, before he asks, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, why not?" I say, glancing at my reflection in the mirror and realising it's the best I'm going to get today. "Where's Dad? And how's Mum doing?"

"Dad's outside, face down in the mud. He can probably breathe, if not…" He shrugs. "Mum's just washing away the tears." He frowns and we're all silent for a few seconds. "Anyway, we'd better get going…"

We step over Dad who's lying, as Briann said, face down in the mud on the porch, and make our way to the Square where the Reaping's about to get under way. Me and Briann take Saturn to stand with Mrs Flannelly, the school teacher, who's bound to look after him until the Reaping's over (he's one of her favourites), then we join the other teenagers in our sections.

"Hey Demi. How's life treating you today?" She asks.

"Erm… Pretty average." I stall. Iris knows some of what goes on at my house but not the extent of it. "What about you?" I ask, quickly moving the focus onto her. This keeps her happy and she goes on and on about who's dating who and how upset she is about it. All the way up to the Reaping.

"Hello, hello, District 12." We all stare at her. Are the orchards and vineyards not a big enough clue for this idiotic Capitolite? "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She cries, pressing her finger to her ear, where there must be an ear piece. "District…11?" She says. A few people nod and grumble, which she seems to accept. She clears her throat. "Hello, hello, District 11! Welcome to Reaping of the 30th Annual Hunger Games! I am your escort, Nina Bonita!"

She swooshes her long, dark hair over her left shoulder, where it sparkles in the sunlight. It must have some sort of glitter on it. Her outfit is equally ridiculous. It's a tight jumpsuit made out of black PVC. It's so tight that her pale breasts are nearly popping right out. She looks idiotic; like an overgrown cat or something. Except not a cat, the eyes are wrong. Cats have colourful eyes with a slit of black, but Nina's are completely black. They must be contacts or something because I can't imagine anyone having eyes like that naturally.

"Shall we get straight on with this? Nobody wants to stand around for too long." Wow, a reasonable escort. We should have her stuffed and put in a museum. And just like that, she strides over to the girls' Reaping Bowl. This is too quick. Everything's too fast. I'm not mentally prepared for this. She stands on her tip toes to look directly down into the Bowl, searching for a decent slip, an entertaining Tribute, an amusing death. I hate her for this – choosing who will die. I can't stand her. I look away in revulsion as she selects a slip and unfolds it dramatically. I see Iris take a huge breath, holding it in her cheeks and making her look like a hamster. It makes me smile.

"Demeter Ceres."

"Yes?" I say, looking around to find whoever is talking to me.

"Are you her? Demeter Ceres?" Nina is staring at me. Am I Demeter Ceres? I think so. Except she pronounced it wrong. It's said like _'Series'_ not _'Serrezz' _or_ 'Cerrezz' _or_ 'Kereeze'_.

"Yes and no. I am Demeter Ceres." I say, telling her the correct way to say it. "Why?" There's silence for a few seconds before she just waves a piece of paper at me. My vision zooms in on it…

_Demeter Ceres._ Printed in my elegant handwriting. One of three slips in the Bowl – one for each year I've been entered.

I freeze, just like I did when Dad attacked me this morning, just like I do when I see trackerjackers, just like I do when my name has been drawn in the Reaping. The last one is something I'll only experience once in my lifetime. I'll die during the Games. At least I won't see Dad again.

"Hah." I laugh breathily, thinking that I really won't ever see him again. He's passed out in the mud back home and I'll be on the train by the time he comes around again. "Hahaha!" I chuckle exuberantly at the thought.

I'm free.

Until I die.

_**Sage Wilmslow, D11**_

A skinny blonde girl from the 14 year old section makes her way to stage. She still seems kind of shaky but whatever she was laughing at has clearly given her the strength she needed to get up there.

"Hello Demeter," Says Nina as they shake hands, "I'll be your Escort through the Games."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Says Demeter with just a hint of sarcasm that Nina (thankfully) doesn't pick up on. "I'm sure you'll be a great help." Slightly more sarcasm that time… "The Hunger Games are just great, aren't they?" Even more sarcasm… Strangely, Nina doesn't notice it, or at least, doesn't draw attention to it.

"Yes… Onto the male Reaping. Who will be our lucky boy?" She says. I snort rather too loudly and several people around me turn to stare at me incredulously. I mutter an apology and stare straight at Nina as she totters over to the other Bowl. She doesn't bother gazing into it this time like she did with the girls, but throws her hand straight in and picks a slip almost instantly. As Reapings go, this one has been quite painless so far. I look over to where mum is standing with Gladdie. They're both looking intently at Nina, waiting for the revelation of who will be going. Seeing them both now, you wouldn't dream of comparing them to the pair that woke me up this morning – the two of them are so serious now that Gladdie isn't jumping around and Mum isn't yelling. It's just plain weird how different they are.

"Sage Wilmslow!"

"Coming Mum…" I mumble, starting to walk towards her, but people don't move out of my way, they just look at me like I'm really weird.

"Oh Gosh, not another one." Says Nina fussily from the stage. She puts her hands on her hips and shouts down to me as if I'm stupid. "Young…man!" She says, with a purposeful gap between each word. "Are… you… Sage… Wilmslow?" She says patronizingly.

"Yes…" I say back, equally as demeaning, just to prove my point. Except she takes it the other way and just thinks I'm really slow.

"Then stop calling me Mum and come here!" She snaps, before composing herself and exposing her scarily sharp canines in a grin. "Ahem… Would you like to join me up on stage Sage?" She asks, recovering her camera face.

"Not particularly." I grumble under my breath. A few people around me stifle laughs. "Of course, Miss Bonita!" I shout to her, starting to walk to stage.

I've been trying to black out the reality of what just happened but it isn't working. My death is coming far too soon and it scares me. I'm too young to die. _But Demeter's younger_. Says a tiny voice in the back of my head. That's true. I have no right to act all scared and young when there's an even younger girl going to the same place as me. Maybe I should try and get her out alive? I don't know though; my family need me.

I shake hands with Nina as soon as I get to stage and then offer my hand to Demeter. She takes it and stares deep into my eyes, reading my emotions with a furrowed brow. I don't know why it's so difficult – if I'm as bad at hiding my emotions as she is, then it wouldn't even take a second to tell what I'm thinking. She knows that she isn't coming home, but she's determined not to go down without a fight. Then it all clicks. She isn't trying to read my emotions; she's trying to freak me out. Doesn't she understand? I won't physically be able to kill her anyway. If it comes down to the two of us then I'll have to let her live. I won't be brave enough. However it plays out, I'm not coming home from these Games.

My fingers find the wooden crucifix that I always wear and I start to silently pray. I hope God can save me a space in Heaven.

_**Demeter "Demi" Ceres, D11**_

He's given up. I know that because he's started praying and holding onto that crucifix for dear life. Does he really think I could kill him? Especially after this little display. He seems so vulnerable and weak now he's started doing that. My odds will be better than his. Probably.

"Ready Demeter?" Says Nina, ushering me into the Justice Building. We stand in the lift not touching and not speaking, which makes it so much more awkward. I'm glad to finally step out, welcoming the fresh, not-sour-smelling air outside the lift, but I can only savour it for a minute before I'm pointed into one room and Sage into the other. He's still praying.

"We're running a bit behind schedule so you won't have as long as normal. Have fun!" Nina shouts just as the double doors slam behind me. Have fun. Have fun. Have freaking fun! I hurl obscenities at the door that she disappeared behind until my family (minus Dad) walk through them. Mum just looks a bit tired and confused but it's obvious she's been crying. Saturn is wiping his eyes with the edge of his shirt and Briann is scowling at me.

"Where did you learn language like that?" He asks, leading Mum and Saturn over to the sofa. I stay standing up, because I'm still seething from Nina's comments. I don't even know why it shook me so much, it just annoyed me so much to hear her talk of the Games like…well… a Game.

"Where do you think?" I snap.

"Dad?" He says.

"Dad." I reply, confirming his suspicions. I start to pace. "Did you hear what that b-?"

"Language!" Says Mum out of the blue, shocking me into silence for a few seconds.

"Sorry Mum… She just gets under my skin."

"Demeter, you've only been with her for a few minutes. You've got the train rides, the training period, then the interviews and after the Games too. You'd better start getting used to her." She says, not even accepting my excuses, but I don't mind about that right now, I'm too surprised. First, she thinks there's a chance of me getting used to her. I don't get used to people I don't like – I just avoid them as much as I can because once I don't like someone, everything they do annoys me. Secondly, she said that I'll see Nina _after_ the Games. That implies she thinks I'm coming home, which I'm not because I'm weak and small and malnourished.

Not much more is said than some final goodbyes and apologies for things we did years ago, and then Iris walks through the doors holding a chunky, heavy-looking bracelet. She passes it to me without a word then hugs me.

"It's for your token… You don't have anything else do you?"

I have to giggle a bit at that. My family is the poorest of the poor, so poor in fact that this bracelet is probably the most valuable thing I've ever held.

"No. I've _never_ had anything else, Iris." I laugh. "Actually, now that you're here, I have something to ask you." She nods. "Could you look after Saturn and Briann? Mainly Saturn, there's not much you can do for Briann that he couldn't do himself, but Saturn's just so…"

"Yeah… Of course, I understand, Demi."

"I love you Iris." She takes a step back from me warily. "Not like that. You're a totally awesome friend and I love you."

"Oh… I love you too, Demi." And she, too, is gone. Just like that. I'll never see her again.

Saying a final goodbye to my best friend and my family has made me so sad and angry that I just can't handle it. I grab a fragile looking vase from a side table and launch it at the wall opposite me, where a portrait of President Fungi is hanging. It crashes right on her face, smashing into a thousand tiny, razor sharp shards. They glint maliciously on the floor, waiting to inflict pain on an unsuspecting Peacekeeper. I like the idea of that and grab a decorative porcelain plate from the coffee table. That, too, finds it mark on the portrait, shattering against Fungi's forehead. It's so satisfying being so destructive. I systematically demolish the room, making absolutely sure that no part of it is undamaged. When Nina finally collects me, she opens the door, trilling my name, to see me sitting innocently on the couch (which is now leaking stuffing everywhere) holding Iris' bracelet and smiling up at her.

"Will I see the train now?" I say, adding just a hint of evil into my 'innocent' smile. She actually looks terrified when she replies.

"We may have to confine you to a single room." She says quietly, as if she's afraid of waking a sleeping lion or something. And I'm the lion. I love it. This is going to be fun…

Hehe.


	14. District 12 Reaping

_Just a small announcement – I need names for mentors for pretty much all 24 Tributes so I'll be conducting a kind of 'Mentor SYOT', if you get what I mean. I need names, ages, character traits, any funny little habits etc. Send them through PM or Review :) _

_Dizzy xx_

**Chapter 14:** District 12, Reaping Day

_**Joiner Humphrey, D12**_

__I stand up, the stone floor of the Community Home cold and unwelcoming after my warm blanket. I look down the dorm and see that every other boy living here is in the same situation, some stretching their arms, some rubbing their eyes. Hundreds of children through the building will be doing the same, jolted from sleep by the alarm bell. My best friend, Johnny, is sat on the very edge of his bed next to mine, still wrapped in his blanket, with a hazy look in his eyes, telling me he's not entire awake yet. I step over and gently pat his cheek, bringing him into the real world.

"Come on, man. They'll skin us if we're late for breakfast." I say, shaking him again. He groans but untangles himself and stands up. We start the long walk down the dorm, nodding at all the other boys as we pass. We're pretty much the oldest now (we're 17, we get kicked out at 18 and told to go down the mines, Johnny's lucky, his birthday's in a week) so we're the furthest away from the door at the other end of the long, concrete room.

"Wheyomeinfiltoday?" He says, through a huge yawn.

"Pardon?"

"Sorry." He apologises, yawns once more then repeats himself. "Where, and if, I guess, are you meeting Filly today?"

Filly's my 13 year old sister. I don't actually see her that often because she's in the girls' wing (obviously) but I love her dearly. She's the sweetest thing.

"I don't know. I don't even know if I'm seeing her at all. I didn't last year." There's meant to be a rule that all siblings get to spend the day together on Reaping Day but I didn't last year because her hall mistress down right refused to let me in. I almost punched her.

"That sucks. At least when you turn 18 you can take her with you." That's true. I haven't really thought about life after the Community Home because 1/7 of the children left here die during their time in residence. There's a small chance that I won't even get out of here alive.

"Yeah, hopefully."

We reach the dining hall where around 200 children have already congregated, waiting for today's meagre ration of grain from the pot at the front. I look over to the girls' table and search for Filly's long, straight, dark (stereotypically 'Seam') hair. It's quite a task considering that over 90% of children here originated from the Seam, me and Filly included. I know we came from the Seam because I was 8 when I watched Mum starve to death. There wasn't anything I could do, I'd tried begging and stealing but it wasn't enough for both of us and then a 4 year old Filly as well. One morning she just didn't wake up. I went to the Justice Building where 4 armed Peacekeepers escorted me back then took Mum's body and left us at the Community Home. We've been here ever since.

"Beat you again." Says Johnny from beside me, pointing to a short, average looking, obviously Seam girl with waist length dark hair. Filly.

"Thanks man." I say.

"I don't see why you bother, there's nothing you can do right now except hope she gets a good amount of food." I look at him and see the sympathy in his eyes. I think he likes Filly. Not as in loves her but genuinely cares for her. He's only met her half a dozen times or so but she can make even the coldest, cruellest hearts melt.

The girl next to Filly looks round and meets my eyes. I gesture to Filly, hoping she'll get the idea. She nods, her curly dark hair flying all over the place.

_**Frequently "Free" Mine, D12**_

__That boy desperately points to Filly, the girl next to me. I reach up and tap her arm.

"Filly…" I say quietly. I'm still not sure how to address the girls who are older than me. I've only been here a few months so I don't fully understand how everything works yet. I got in heaps of trouble a few weeks ago for asking my dorm mistress to tie my shoe laces. That's just not how it works here apparently – I still have the bruises.

She looks around… and then down… and finally spots me about a foot shorter than her. She smiles and bends to my level. "What do you need?" I realise how patronizing that is because I'm only a few months younger than her but she's treating me like a little kid. My size probably doesn't help, but my birthday is in about 2 weeks and then I'll be as old as her.

"Erm… well… You see…" She waits patiently for me to finish babbling. "There's a boy over there, I think he knows you…?" She looks over, double takes then grins and waves.

"Thank you. What's your name?"

"I'm Free."

"Oh… That's a… pretty name." She says, recovering after her slight look of amusement.

"Don't worry, I know it's a silly name but that's what my Daddy called me before he died." She looks around awkwardly. "Sorry, I'll leave you to it." I say and turn back towards the front, paying attention to the dorm mistresses dishing out hundreds of portions of grain and cups of water. They finally decide that they have enough and order everyone to sit down. We all do because we're eager to eat and they slide the right number of bowls down each row. We still can't eat yet though because we need to pray. We all put our hands together and try to ignore the delicious smell wafting from our food. One of the dorm mistresses says the prayer and then gives the order to eat.

All of us turn immediately to our bowls. Sure, the portions are small but at least we can count on _something_ each day. That's more than a lot of the children in District 12 can say, but this doesn't stop me still feeling hungry when I'm done and it definitely doesn't stop my tummy from rumbling. I don't draw attention to it though because I know everyone else feels the same.

Something taps my arm. I look up to see Filly, still with some grain in her bowl, smiling at me.

"Here, have this. I've had enough anyway." She says. I shake my head but I can't stop staring at her steaming leftovers. "Take them; you need them more than me." I can't help thinking that this isn't completely true, but for some reason I reach out and take them anyway. Soon enough, I put down her empty bowl next to my own.

"Thank you." I say, sheepishly.

"That's ok." She says, playing with a strand of my hair in awe. "Is it naturally this curly?" I nod and she giggles as the hair springs back into place. We talk a bit more as we walk back to our beds and I find out more about her. The boy waving at her was her brother; he's 17 (_"He's taken care of me since Mum died."_). Her birthday is on the 4th July, her favourite colour is turquoise (_"Like the sea – I wish we could see the sea"_), she loves reading (_"It's like entering an entirely new universe!"_) and she doesn't have any very close friends (_"Sometimes I wish I did but then I realise that I'm happy how I am."_).

I also tell her things about me, how I love singing, I always sleep on my left side, how I don't own a single thing in the world.

"Me neither." She says to the last one. "But I have all the brains I need to survive. So do you, you seem clever." I have to smile at that.

"Thank you."

"Anytime." She says as she leaves me at my bed and continues a little way on until she reaches hers. I smile after her and I'm suddenly really happy. I think I just made a friend.

_**Joiner Humphrey, D12 **_

"Come on, Joiner, we need to hurry. If we miss the Reaping we are literally dead." Says Johnny, hurrying past me and grabbing his Reaping clothes from under his bed, beating the dust off them. It's easy to pick out the Community Home kids on Reaping day because we all wear the same; Boys wear a simple white cotton shirt, black trousers and black shoes, girls wear a knee length dress in sickly baby pink and white shoes. Most of our clothes and shoes are the wrong size on us too because they're all hand me downs. We never get new clothes. Our dorm mistresses just tell us to be grateful.

This is my second year with my current Reaping outfit. The trousers are a bit short on the legs and the shirt sleeves are the same but I don't mind particularly; it's still the best I look all year. Once we're dressed we look each other over and shrug our shoulders in an _'I guess we don't have much choice, let's get this over and done with'_ sort of way and start to make our way to the Square.

"So… I guess you don't get to see Filly today." Says Johnny sympathetically.

"No… I miss her; I've barely seen her at all over the last year." I say, staring at the ground. Sure, me and Johnny are best friends but huge displays of emotions are unusual for boys.

"I know you do, mate, but just think… your birthdays soon and then you can both get out of here."

"Yeah, just a few months… A few months…" I repeat this over and over in my head until I start to take comfort in it, but then the little niggling voice in the back of my head strikes up.

_A few months and then what? You go down the mines for 10 hours a day making very little money, polluting your lungs and leaving Filly alone for huge amounts of time. You'll either die early or have to quit because you can't breathe properly. You won't get a wife because you're horrendous to look at and you're barely educated. You're a dead end. Then when Filly's old enough she'll go down the mines and face the same problems. If she doesn't turn to other methods of making money first… _

I shudder at the thought of Filly going into prostitution to stay alive. It's cruel that young women – and _girls_, in some cases – have to sell their bodies to make enough money to survive. It's disgusting.

"So… Who do you think will be chosen?" I say, desperately seeking a change of subject. When choosing between the Reaping and Filly's glum future, I'll choose the Reaping everyday.

"I don't know. It's probably going to be one of the older kids because more and more people have had to sign up for tesserae this year, us included." That's a fair point, I hadn't factored in tesserae. How many do I have this year? 6 obligatory entries, plus 2 tesserae slips each year for me and Filly. So 6 plus 12. 18.

It's so unfair that every child in the Community Home is forced to take out tesserae not just for ourselves but for every member of our family as well. I know it's necessary but they should at least give us the choice – most of us would choose to take it anyway, but it would be nice to have the option to say no. Filly only has 6, thank God. There's a family of 6 orphans here who all have to take tesserae for each other. That must be horrible.

"I reckon it's going to be a town kid this year." Says Johnny after a few minutes. "It hasn't been one of them for years now."

"That doesn't really have anything to do with it…" I say.

"No, but the odds can't always be in their favour." He says, though he doesn't sound convinced by it.

I make a noncommittal sound in my throat. The truth is the odds are never in anyone's favour really. We're all going to die eventually and most of us as a direct result of how our country is run, either from lung cancer or starvation or mining accidents, we all die eventually.

"Ugh." I say as we walk into the Square. "They actually celebrate it." I murmur under my breath to Johnny, who looks around at the decorated Square with a look of total loathing.

"I can't believe the Capitolites. I hope I get picked just so I can go to the Capitol and mock them on live television." He says. I know he's joking about wanting to be picked but the thought still scares me. Today could genuinely be my last day with my best friend. That's a shame, but there's nothing we can do to protect against that. I just have to pray that today isn't my last day seeing my little sister.

_**Frequently "Free" Mine, D12**_

__I walked to the Square with Filly while she complimented my hair (_"You've put it in bunches but it's still curly!"_), but we had to separate as she went to stand with the 13s. I'm glad she's started treating me less like a little kid and more like her friend.

She's not here now, though, I'm stuck with the 12s, but that's ok because I'm not in the mood for talking anyway. I'm scared. It's my first Reaping and the only person who has wished me luck is Filly. I watch all the other children come in with their parents and I feel more alone than ever. I bow my head, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

My neck is sore from staring at the floor by the time our escort walks onto stage. Her name is Olivia Fortuna-Evans. She's quite pretty and normal-looking compared to some of the other escorts that we see on the television. Her hair is its natural blonde colour, cut short to her shoulders. It's crimped so each hair looks like a zigzag and there are pearls pinned through it. Her most unusual feature is her bright purple lipstick. It's shiny, changing colour in the light like the pearls in her hair.

Her clothes are relatively mundane for an escort. Her bottom half seems to be dressed like a zebra, with black and white stripy leggings and a tail, even her shoes look like hooves. Her shirt is nice though. It's a simple white strap top with a black lace shirt over it. The overall effect of the leggings and lace is quite attractive.

"Good morning, District 12." She says in a kind voice. "We all know why we're here, so let's crack straight on, shall we?" And straight away, all the girls are tense, waiting to find out which one of us is going to be executed in these Games. "Frequently Mine."

I close my eyes, wishing it all away, praying for someone to save me. I'm too young to die. This can't be happening. I just made a friend. I'm just getting used to life in the Community Home. I'm _12_, for goodness' sake. 12 year olds don't get Reaped. I feel tears burning at the back of my eyes. I take just a few seconds to control them so they don't spill when I open my eyes and I start walking. My face is on every single screen in Panem right now so I need to control my emotions, just until I can talk to whoever my mentor will be and we can decide on an angle for me, until then I'll just be kind to everyone.

"No! Free!" Shouts Filly. I turn around to see her running towards me, not caring who sees her or what she looks like. I didn't know she cared that much but when she reaches me she pulls me into a hug and whispers into my ear.

"I'll go, you can't die."

"No. Stay. Please. Stay for your brother." I mumble back. "I couldn't watch you die, you're my first real friend."

"And you're mine…" She says. I feel her tears dripping onto my shoulders.

"I'll go, it's fine. Stay for your brother." I repeat, feeling the tears building and building, but I'm determined to keep them in. I let her go and walk away without looking in her eyes. In the time it takes me to get to the stage, my eyes completely dry out, wiping away all traces of tears.

"Hello, Olivia, I'm Free." I say, shaking her hand.

"Hey sweetie, call me Livvy." She replies. "Your hair's very pretty." She points out. That's not the first time I've heard that this morning.

"Thank you, so is yours, Miss." I beam, finding that I don't even have to fake my happiness that I got a kind escort.

"That's very kind of you, Free. Let's hurry along." She says, smiling at me and trotting over to the other Reaping Bowl. "Ah… Let's see… Joiner Humphrey?"

My heart drops as soon as he starts walking to the stage. It's Filly's brother. My only reason for Filly staying is now completely useless. I hear her crying hysterically from the crowd. The other 13s all turn towards her, confused looks plastered on every face. All the cameras focus on her crying, her hands buried in her face and her back hunched over.

I'm crying as well now because I hate seeing her so upset. I've only really known her since this morning but I don't have any other friends and she means the world to me. I can also sympathise entirely with what she's going through. This morning she had a brother and a friend and now she's lost everything – that's exactly what happened to me when Mum and Dad died in that explosion.

The distraction has given Joiner time to get to the stage and shake hands with me and Livvy. As we stand there listening to Livvy try to shout over Filly's continued sobs we don't look at each other because we're staring at Filly, willing her to get up and pretend for the cameras, but she's in no fit state to do anything. The other girls have backed away from her, looking scared. How on Earth could someone be scared of Filly?

_**Joiner Humphrey, D12**_

__I stand alone in the Justice Building, hoping desperately that Johnny will come and see me soon. Filly hasn't come yet but I can hear her sobbing next door. Maybe she and the short girl – Free – were closer than I thought. I'll think about it later, if I have the emotional strength to do so.

Finally, he walks in, holding something small and delicate-looking in his hands. He strides over and puts it in the palm of my hand. It's _tiny_. Then he pulls me into an awkward hug, patting my back and ruffling my hair.

"I got this off Filly's dorm mistress to give you as a token." I look more closely at it and recognise it. It's Filly's necklace from when she was a baby. A thin silver chain with a fragile silver flower attached to it. It's beautiful but I'm not sure if I can take it seeing as I'm about to ask a massive favour of Johnny and I think he could use the extra money.

"Listen, Johnny. I need you to do something for me." I say, tearing my eyes away from the necklace.

"Wait, first I should tell you. When I turn 18 I'm legally allowed to adopt any child from the Community Home, as long as they are willing and I don't have a criminal record and all that other official stuff. I intend to adopt Filly, unless you get back of course, but I wanted to make sure you were ok with that." Wow. He really is my best friend. He's giving up so much money and freedom to look after Filly once I'm gone.

"Thank you. That's what I was going to ask you. It's insane but if you're willing…" I add uncertainly. I don't want to scare him off now because I really, _really_ want Filly in a nice home, with someone she likes. Johnny is the perfect person.

"Of course. I'll take care of her." He pauses to contemplate something. "If…" He clears his throat. "If she doesn't want to, of course, you won't hold it against me, will you? I mean, it's her choice in the end…" He says, looking at the floor.

"Yeah, sure. If she wants to go with you, then she can. If she doesn't then that's her choice." I say, a lump rising in my throat. It would be best for Filly to go with Johnny but what if she doesn't see it that way? What if she doesn't trust him? I'll have to talk to her. "I'm sure she'll be happy to live with you though."

The door clicks open behind him and an old Peacekeeper pokes his head round the door. "Time's up." He grunts miserably.

"Take care of her. I know she can be bratty but please, take care of her." I say desperately, words tripping over each other on their way out. I hug him again but it's less tense this time. We both know that this is the last time we'll ever see each other.

"I will. I promise." He says. He presses his lips to my cheek. "Good luck. I love you."

Woah! That's not what I was looking for! I stumble back, lifting my fingers to my cheek.

"Huh, thanks. Take care of her." I mutter, not making eye contact. He walks out without another word, leaving me to stew in memories, viewed in a whole new light after this revelation. Johnny is _gay_. That explains a lot. I don't particularly mind though. Johnny's been my best friend for nearly 9 years; this shouldn't affect our friendship at all. But still…

I don't even notice when Filly walks in, silently crying, until she flings herself on me, knocking us onto the sofa. "Ouch!"

"Joiner…" She whispers, through her tears. "I can't believe… You and Free… In one day… But you're my brother… My friend…" She seems incapable of forming a coherent sentence at the moment so I just sit her down next to me and let her cry her soul out onto my shoulder. It's a wonder she has anything left after what I heard from next door.

"Listen, Filly, I have a serious question." I say after a few minutes of raw emotion. "You know my friend, Johnny?"

"The nice one?" She says. Yes, that's a good sign. She likes him, at least.

"Yeah. He turns 18 in a few days and he's offered to adopt you… You know, after I'm gone…" She leaps up, grinning like a maniac.

"Yes!" She trills in a sincere voice. She's genuinely looking forward to living with him. "Yes, I will. I'll start packing tonight!" She says, obviously forgetting that she has nothing to pack.

"At least now you have something to look forward to."

"Yes, that and your victory tour." She says calmly.

"Oh, honey." I say sadly. "I probably won't win these Games. I can't lie to you. I'm sorry." She looks at me as though I've taken every single dream she's ever had and slapped her around the face with them. "I'm so sorry, Filly, but I don't have the strength to survive this."

"Yes you do. You're smart."

"No more than everyone else going in. Even Free's probably smarter than me." At the mention of Free she starts to cry again.

"I'm losing everything today!" She sobs. "The one friend I've ever had and my brother! Both going into the Games!"

All I can do is hold her until she calms down enough to talk to me… I wait… And wait… And wait. I'm sure there was something else I needed to talk to her about, but I can't think with her howling into my ear. All too soon, the gruff Peacekeeper is dragging her off me and I'm screaming after her, telling her I love her and we're crying… crying.

Livvy comes to collect me next, with a tiny, strangely determined-looking Free in tow. Whatever was said to Free in that room has obviously made a difference. She's determined to get home and I find myself actually scared of her. I can feel her strength of character, the burning desire to return to a normal life.

I'm determined to get home too, but given the opportunity, could I really kill someone as young and innocent as Free? I don't think so. Yet another reason why I won't be able to get home. She's a focused kid alright, but as we're walking to the train station she holds my hand, obviously seeking comfort against the clicking cameras. I dutifully lead her all the way to the train where the door slides shut behind us and we zoom off.

"Well…" Says Livvy slowly and quietly. "The Capitol awaits. We'd better not disappoint."


	15. The Review of the Reapings

**Chapter 14: **Reaping Recap

"Welcome, welcome, citizens of Panem, to this year's review of the Reapings!" Says Claudius Templesmith, already sitting in his squashy chair on stage. The live audience of Capitolites go wild, thinking that the entertainment is about to begin. "Now, some of you may be wondering why there is a spare chair next to me on stage." A murmur runs round the City Circle, some in realisation and some in curiosity. "Well, as we all know, we lost a very dear friend after last years Games. Our previous interviewer, Cash-Cash Jubilee, is no longer with us." A few sobs ring out along with other assorted noises of distress. "But our producers have been out scouting new talent so, please stay calm ladies, and allow me to introduce our brand new – and ravishingly handsome – interviewer, Caesar Flickerman!"

A slender man in a black suit walks onto stage and immediately all the women in the audience swoon. This man is beautiful. Everything from his hair and eye shadow to his lipstick and tie is jet black. He looks sinister and scary but dark and mysterious – all the women want him and all the men want to be him.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am Caesar Flickerman." The crowd laugh like drains (or, more likely, hyenas) at this. Caesar vaguely thinks how that wasn't meant to be a joke but if they like it, so be it.

"Hello Caesar," Says Claudius, shaking Caesar's hand and clapping him on the back. "So, what do you hope to gain by interviewing the Tributes for a few years?"

"Well, I intend to gain nothing; I'm here to make the experience more enjoyable for both Tribute and viewer. I wouldn't mind a healthy pay check at the end of it though!" He finishes, winking jovially at the camera. The ladies giggle again as his handsome face is projected all round the City Circle. Even the men laugh and gaze up at him, clearly already idolising him. Even Claudius, typically serious, career man-Claudius laughs and just like that, Caesar Flickerman has won over the entire country.

"Right you are!" They laugh for a few minutes, enjoying their easy friendship. "So, we know why we're here, we need to remind people of this year's Tributes. What do you think so far, Caesar?"

"A mixed bag, Claudius, a very mixed bag. There are some that can't even be compared, like chalk and cheese." He says, sitting back and crossing his legs, completely at ease with the situation and his new found fame.

"Let's start at the beginning then, District 1. What do you think of lovely Athena?" Says Claudius, his voice full of subtle suggestion. The screen behind the duo springs to life and Athena Diamond's profile is displayed for everyone to see.

"She's definitely very attractive, something that will attract sponsors from all over." Says Caesar, studying her picture. "Yes, I'd say she has a very good chance of survival."

"And what about her District partner, there seemed to be a flash of recognition from both of them on stage. He certainly seems like a tough competitor, as District 1 males usually are." Says Claudius as the profile changes and a very vicious looking picture of Damian Flashman pops onto the screen.

"Yes, he seems like a… tough competitor, as you say." No other words come to them as they stare at the screen, waiting for inspiration. "Anyway, onto District 2?" The profile changes again just after he speaks and Quartz Enright appears, wearing a cunning smile and still looking wildly beautiful. "Now, District 2 Tributes traditionally go very far in these Games, and I believe Q has everything she needs."

"Oh yes, she's definitely one to watch." Claudius says passionately. Anyone would think that he was picking favourites at this point. "I'm in two minds about Flint though."

"As am I. He seems like a fighter, but the scene with the girl tells me that he's a bit wimpy." Caesar looks at his partner, showing uncertainness for the first time and wondering if he's said the right thing.

"Oh, my thoughts exactly! Everyone's allowed feelings of course, but a true gentleman doesn't masquerade his emotions like he's on a catwalk!" He exclaims. "However, if he cares that much for this girl, he may be especially determined to get home. We must always look at both sides, mustn't we?"

"Oh yes." There's a short pause while the screen changes again and Alessia Monroe appears, scowling at the camera. "Now, this one… This one…"

"She's got spirit." Offers Claudius, resolutely picking out at least one good aspect of each Tribute. He falters on the next one, however. Chris Foster. "…I just don't see his angle, Caesar. What are your thoughts?"

"I think I may have to reserve judgement until the interviews." He says slowly, trying to buy time so that he can come up with something nice to say, but nothing comes so they move hastily onto District 4. "Now, I just love this girl."

"Of course! Cora Radcliffe, that's a name to remember. Quiet but beautiful. Deadly? Maybe." Claudius says, just happy to be able to say something about a Tribute. "District 4 Tributes often hold a lot of promise. Look at dear Mags – who doesn't appreciate her talent with a trident? I have a feeling she'll be able to teach Cora an awful lot!"

"Oh, for sure! And Poseidon too, he's going to blossom, isn't he? So much promise in that body. I wonder what his stylists will do with him. Something spectacular, no doubt!" Poseidon's picture flashes onto the screen, a half smirk plastered on his face. He just screams arrogance but at the same time his likeability factor is off the scale. Women are sure to like him. "And look at that hair. What do you think, Claudius, could I pull of that colour?" Caesar says, holding his head next to the screen so Claudius can see the colour with his skin tone. "What do we think everyone?" The audience screams with approval and many people clap and cheer.

"I think that's a yes Caesar!" Claudius says, gently trying to calm things down and get on with the show. "So, District 5… Now, Phoebe Electra!"

"I think I'm in love with her!" Caesar interjects smoothly, putting a hand to his heart.

"Isn't she just the cutest?" Claudius says. The nod and share a look of short-lived pity. Neither of them has anything else to say so they just move onto Aidan. "Aidan Gray… He seems very scared, which is odd. He didn't even move when Golly, a personal friend of mine, called his name." He looks to Caesar for support. "What do you think?"

"I think that he could be a… formidable competitor… _if_ he gets his act together." They both nod and wait for the profile to change. "February McKinley." Caesar says. "She-" He points at the screen. "Is a fighter. She's not going down easily, I can tell."

"Yes, just the look on her face as she's walking to the train." A clip of February and Hugo boarding the train plays being them, the sound track removed. "What's she playing with? Just there!" The video pauses and zooms into February's left hand. Her engagement ring is thrown into sharp focus. The crowd gasps and then cheers. Claudius and Caesar exchange surprised, confused looks until the latter finds the right words.

"We have an engaged Tribute!" The crowd screams even more. The whole City Circle celebrates the news of February's engagement for minutes on end, Claudius and Caesar hugging, as if they were celebrating a mutual friend's engagement. "This is marvellous news!" They keep exclaiming.

After a while, Caesar presses a finger to his ear and listens intently for a few seconds. He nods. "A little voice in my ear has told me that we need to continue with the show, but first, let's hear it once more for February McKinley and her betrothed!" The noise peaks while everyone sends the District 6 Tribute their best wishes. "So…" Says Caesar, sitting back down and looking at the screen, where Hugo Ataylo's profile is awaiting his eyes. "He's definitely handsome, but I'm starting to wonder what will set him apart from his District partner. What defines him?"

"I guess we'll have to wait and see, Caesar!" Says Claudius good-naturedly. "District 7 is certainly memorable though, isn't she? She seems like a strong character."

"Yes, but her District partner… Ash? He… He definitely lives in the shadow of Hemlock." Says Caesar quite rudely. "Of course, maybe he's putting on an act, which sometimes happens. Only time will tell." He says, trying to redeem himself.

"Now, I find District 8 fascinating every year." Says Claudius, watching Ash's profile fade away and be replaced with Fran from 8. "This one in particular Fran Weaver… There's something in her eyes – a spark."

"I agree. Definitely one to watch."

"Yes. And from the looks of things, she's already formed an alliance with her male counterpart, Warp. What do you think of that?" Claudius says excitedly.

"Oh yes, just when they shook hands. I think that alliance is going to pay off. Definitely. I think they'll make a good team – they're the same age so they probably know each other. They'll fight well together." He concludes, before moving onto District 9. "Now, a volunteer from a lower class District, that's certainly not something we see very often. What do you think of Rye Miller?"

"She's definitely interesting. She knows both the girl she volunteered for and the boy she's going in with." Claudius pauses to tap his chin with his fingers. "That's something we see occasionally. Do you think that will make her more determined to fight or will she let Aston get home?" There's a few seconds of shrugging before they just give up on the idea and move on.

"This is heartbreaking, don't you think, Claudius?" Says Caesar as a picture of Robyn scowling replaces Aston's handsome half smile. "A set of _twins_ going into the Arena! I've never seen such a thing before."

"I believe we had a pair from District 2 in the 6th Games, one of which was victorious – Hilly Freeland – who mentors now." Claudius points out, probably getting his information from his earpiece.

"Of course! How could I forget beautiful Hilly?" Says Caesar, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. She's brought home… 4 victors since her own victory?"

"I believe so. Quite a feat!" The crowd cheers again, celebrating one of its favourite, most attractive victors. "But this pair…" Says Claudius, trying to regain some control. "Is one of a kind. A pair from District 10, who notoriously has very few victors, is willing to have some fun but still look so determined to get home. They will fight hard to get back, but as we all know, we can only have one Victor…" Silence falls as many of the Capitolites realise, for the first time, that at least one Freescott twin will have to die.

"District 11, then…" Says Caesar seriously, looking at the screen again. "Demeter Ceres. She has definitely left her mark on all of us. Laughing at her Reaping." He frowns. "Everyone loves a bit of humorous sarcasm to lighten the mood, don't they?"

"For sure." Says Claudius, trying to help his new friend out of a hole. "Sage though, I think he was a bit confused at the Reaping, calling our beautiful Nina Bonita his mother. She is clearly too young to be a mother."

"Oh yes." Says Caesar, recovering his camera face and winking again, even blowing a kiss to Nina wherever she is.

"Finally, District 12." Says Claudius after a few minutes of wolf whistling and clapping. "District 12 have not, as of yet, brought home a Victor, have they?"

"No, but there's a first time for everything." The Capitolites laugh as Caesar flashing his gleaming white teeth in a smile. "The little girl, Free is very brave, telling her friend to stay. She's so sweet I think my teeth are starting to rot!" The whole Circle bursts into laughter again as he mimes his teeth falling out.

"And the boy, Joiner. He is the brother of Free's friend, is he not?" He says, watching again as the Reaping replays on the TV screen. "Yes, look how they all cry, here." The clip pauses on a picture of Joiner and Free staring at their sister and friend with tears streaking down their faces. "Now, that is a picture of a united front, I think. Is this the beginning of an indestructible alliance?"

"Maybe, Claudius, maybe. Don't forget to tune in tomorrow evening for the Presentation of the Tributes! Their first public appearance and President Fungi's speech! I don't know, Claudius, I think it's going to be an incredible night!" Caesar finishes with excitement pouring out of every pore.

"That it is, Caesar!" They stand up and bow, waiting patiently as the audience screams their names. Finally, the curtain falls and they are hidden from sight.

"How did I do?" Asks Caesar politely.

"Great. The Games have truly begun…" They stand there awkwardly while people with clipboards remove their earpieces and microphones. "Fancy having a drink?" Claudius says, running a hand through his perfect hair, ruffling it to oblivion.

"I'd love to."

_This way very much a filler chapter, just to remind everyone of who was Reaped. _

_I just realised that I've never written a disclaimer so here it is:_

_I own most of the characters, Arena and storyline but nothing else. The basic idea, some characters and some other stuff are completely Suzanne Collins' and thank God they are, right? Can you imagine a world without this trilogy? _

_Next chapter soon (hopefully)._

_Dizzy xx_


	16. The Train Rides

"_Some people dream of success while others wake up and work hard for it."_

_"A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit." _

_Live your dream._

_Dizzy (who is feeling slightly off tonight) xx_

**Chapter 15:** Train Rides

_**Ash Tamarack, D7**_

I throw up into the toilet again then slump, groaning onto the floor. This damn Capitol food is making me so ill. To be honest, it was just something to do instead of looking at everyone staring at me after what Caesar and Claudius said about me. Do I live in Hemmy's shadow? I hardly know her! I can feel the gallon of hot chocolate I drank making a reappearance so I lean over the bowl again.

What little was left in my stomach exits, making me gag and gasp for oxygen. I hear the door click open behind me and Hemmy comes in with a damp cloth. She sits next to me on the floor, flushes the toilet and starts wiping my forehead with the cold cloth.

"Listen, Ash. What they said on the Review…" She says kindly, sounding completely different to how she does with everyone else. I don't want to hear it. I tell her as much but she just shakes her head. "You need to, because what they said just isn't true. You don't live in my shadow at all! You're your own person and we've only known each other for a day." She lifts my chin with her hand and continues dabbing my face. "You could be a fierce competitor in these Games if you believe in yourself. Even Dahlia said Caesar was stupid. Actually, it was more colourful than that, but you know. Stop listening to the TV – all they want is a good show! You can get home if you want to." She smiles at me but I don't return it because I know I won't get home. She deserves it more than me. "What's wrong?"

"You don't get it do you?" I ask her. She shakes her head slowly, looking completely bewildered. "If it comes to you and me, you go home. I'll just let you go home because your family needs you more than mine needs me."

"No!" She says, backing away as though I'm going to shoot myself now.

"Yes. Your brother…"

"How do you know about Storax?" She says, leaning forwards and staring intently at me.

"I saw you in the woods this morning." I answer quietly, dropping my head in shame as I realise what that must sound like. It's not like I was stalking them or anything, they just happened to be near me.

"Oh." Is all she says. "Well then, I guess-" But that's as far as she gets because I'm violently sick yet again. She closes her eyes and wrinkles her nose. I flush the toilet and apologise. "No, that's ok. I'm not good with… Illness and stuff." She shudders but opens her eyes to start cleaning me up. "Anyway, the bottom line, Ash, is that you need to stop taking what the Capitolites say so seriously. It makes life a lot easier when you mindlessly hate them." I know what she's getting at, I can hear the inflections in her words.

"I can't ally with you Hemmy." I say, my head hanging over the toilet again. "You know why."

"Yeah, they're going to target me and stuff. Oh well, that's your loss." She says, standing up and stretching like she's been still for too long. "I'm going to try and get the District 3 girl – Ally – and the one from 11 – Demeter, I think."

"Good luck. Honestly, it's nothing personal." I say, not making eye contact. She shrugs, gets me a glass of water then leaves me in peace.

I like Hemmy, I really do, she's got character and that flare which almost anyone (Capitolites not included) can appreciate, but I can't team up with her. Granted, she could probably protect me but at what cost? She _is_ going to be targeted in the Arena and I want to get home. I know I told her I'd let her get home if it was just the two of us left but that depends on her surviving that long, which she won't because the Gamemakers are probably already deciding how to kill her without it being too suspicious. I feel bad for even thinking this but it's true.

But even if I can't ally with Hemmy, I need to find myself an alliance that can protect me until I no longer need them. Then I'll kill them all.

_**Damian Flashman, D1**_

I grudgingly watched the Review with Athena, the mentors (Louella and Azure) and Hebbadine but then I escaped as quickly as I could.

Athena's being clingy. I have no experience with girls (I always put my efforts into training) so I don't know if this is normal or if Athena's just using me for protection in the Arena. Either way, if it comes to protecting her or letting her die in the Arena… Well, one less opponent is one less opponent, isn't it? Compassion won't get me anywhere in the Games.

So now I'm lying in my room with the door locked hoping she'll just leave me alone and get over her little obsession. Admittedly, she's nice to look at and probably very nice in other areas… but she's a whore… and all I can think about at the moment is Immy. Immy Afuga. Granted, she's not as sexy as Athena but she's pretty and sweet and probably more loyal than Athena.

There's a quiet knock at my door. That'll be her. I mentally flip out, trying to decide what to do. In the end I choose to ignore it and pretend I'm asleep. It works for about a minute until she knocks again, slightly harder and whispers my name.

"Snnnrrkkk!" I pretend to snore loudly, which is ridiculous. She just knocks again. I creep closer to the door. "SNNNRRKKK!" I snort even louder. This time she positively hammers on the door. I'll give it to her, she doesn't give up easily. I stomp my feet, making it seem like I'm groggy and walking from my bed to the door, then I ruffle my hair and open the door. She stands there, one hand resting on the door frame, the other on her hip. She's pushing her chest out like they aren't obvious enough already.

"Evening, handsome." She says seductively.

"Oh, hey Athena." I say, looking determinedly at her face and not her… other features. We stand there, her getting more and more impatient and me just waiting for her to give up and go away. It's blatant that she's not the type to give up easily. "Is there anything you need?" I say, trying to sound innocent but confused at the same time.

"Don't play cool like that." She says, taking her hand off the door frame and trailing her fingers down my bare chest instead. Her touch alone gets me breathing heavily. I don't act on my impulses though and she soon gets annoyed. "Damian. I know it's been a long day but-"

"Yeah, you're right, a long day…" I say, turning to look pointedly at my bed and miming a yawn. When I look back round though, she's just inches from my face. "Listen, Athena-"

"Don't be like that." She says moving even closer. Why can't she just take no for an answer! Has she never been told to back off? She's a mayor's daughter, so probably not. She kisses me once, quickly on the lips, somehow pushing me backwards further into my room. "I know you want me. Who doesn't?" Wow, stuck up _and_ big headed. But I find myself not fighting her as we shuffle closer and closer to my bed. She keeps kissing me then stopping to give me instructions and kissing me again, each time she gets more serious and keeps it going longer and longer and all the time I'm not saying anything to stop it.

_Think of Immy, Damian! _

Bad idea. Never think of a girl you like while kissing another girl with your eyes closed.

I wrap my arms around Immy's – no _Athena's_ – waist and pick her up, carrying her the rest of the way to the big, comfy bed. She's so warm beneath my hands, which are now exploring her torso, relishing the moment.

"I knew you'd get into it." She says smugly as I break away from her lips and kiss her neck. I just groan back, not wanting to ruin this moment. I lie down and she sits on my stomach. This is wrong. I know it's wrong but I'm a man and I don't have the strength to stop it now. Men have urges. But I've let this go on for too long.

"Wait, Athena." I say, but she just kisses my bare chest, making her way further down… "Athena…" I try to say firmly, but it comes out more like a moan. "Stop, Athena." I say again, but then she starts kissing me more vigorously and it's obvious that she's not stopping for anything now. She does something with her tongue that I've never experienced before but whatever it was, I want more. I moan her name again, not wanting her to stop, but wanting her to go wild for me.

_**Flint Laurer, D2**_

_Q's chasing me through the dark forest, a sword in her cruel hand. My lungs and my muscles are burning from running for so long but I have to keep going. If I don't then she'll catch me and torture me until I die. But I start to tire and I slow down, sobbing from the stress and the exhaustion and the sheer disappointment that I got this far only to die. She sees me obviously defeated and strolls until she's face to face with me. She lets out a snarling laugh. Then her features start to morph, they're changing into someone I know very well, a face that I never thought would kill me. She stands over me, pointing her sword straight at my chest, laughing at me about to die, taunting me until I can stand no more. The rush of adrenaline lurches me up, kicking her wrist so her sword flies out of her hand. I catch it and run her through, watching as her crimson blood soaks the floor, watching the love of my life dying. _

"SAMMIE!" I yell, sitting bolt upright in my comfy bed. I look all around my room, looking desperately for some sign that I did actually kill Sammie. She's not lying on the floor, limbs stuck out at odd angles. She's got no hole through her chest. She's safe at home in District 2. She may be upset and crying her heart out but she's safe. Safer than me.

The idea of Sammie being in anything but perfect health has stressed me out so much that I can't get back to sleep. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I decide to go for a walk. If I pass any Avoxes on the way I might even ask them for some hot chocolate. I'd never had any of that before boarding this train but it's like falling into a chocolatey heaven.

I walk the length of my car then open the door into the food room. There's nothing on the table apart from a jug of water and 5 glasses. One for each of us. I walk straight past it though. Water seems too tasteless and thin in my current state. My next stop is the TV room.

I stop as soon as I walk in. The clock on the wall says 1:30 in the morning but there's still an Avox in here, cleaning up the plate I smashed while we were watching the Reaping Review. I remember Caesar's words again and anger flares in me again.

_"__He seems like a fighter, but the scene with the girl tells me that he's a bit wimpy__."_ It's not even the fact that he called me wimpy that got me. Sammie should not be referred to as _'the girl'_. She is the most incredible girl I know, the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with if I get through this.

Just then, the Avox looks up and makes eye contact. She hurriedly gets to her feet, pushes her brown hair off her face and stands to attention, hands clasped behind her back.

"Sorry." I say, before I can stop myself. "Erm… I'll clean that, it's my mess so I'll sort it." She shakes her head and I understand what the problem is. "Were you ordered to do this?" She nods her eyes downcast. "Well, I'll take over." She looks so skinny and upset. Suddenly I have another idea. "I have an idea. Please could you bring me 10 bread rolls and 2 mugs of hot chocolate." She nods again and scuttles off. I drop to my knees, sweeping up the cracked china with the discarded dust pan and brush. I've just finished and tipped the broken fragments into the bin in the corner when she comes back carrying a tray laden with everything I asked for, plus a pot of butter and some jam. "Perfect." I say, taking the tray from her and setting it on the coffee table. "Will you sit with me?" I ask. She looks over her shoulder and doesn't move. "Sit with me." I say, but softening the order with a smile.

She walks slowly over and perches on the edge of the sofa next to me. She doesn't look entirely comfortable with the situation.

"I'm Flint." I hold out my hand and she shakes it. I wait for her to tell me her name until I realise that she physically can't. "Oh. Here." I dig in my pocket for the pad and pencil that I used to make notes on the other Tributes earlier in the evening. I hand them to her. She writes: _Sarah Elizabeth Jackson, District 3._ "That's a pretty name." I look up from her note to see her eyeing up the rolls and hot chocolate. She looks back at me and mouths _'Sorry'_. "That's ok. I got them for you."

She stares at me for a few seconds before slowly reaching out and taking a roll. She sniffs it and smiles before tearing it up and shoving it in her mouth like an animal. I have to smile because she eats 4 rolls like that before taking a sip of hot chocolate and stopping, slumping down her chair, seemingly at ease with both me and the situation now. She nods, obviously meaning thank you.

"You're welcome." She stands up and smoothes her skirt down. She presses her finger to her lips, making it into a question with the angle of her head. "Of course. I won't tell if you don't." She curtseys once more and walks out like nothing happened.

Just then my hardened mentor, Freddie walks in, sees me sat there and glares at me. "Bed, now." He says in a dangerously low voice.

_**February McKinley, D6**_

I look at the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room. It's 3:15 in the morning. That's too late to be up on a normal night but considering we're not doing anything important tomorrow, just travelling closer to the Capitol, I decide now is a good time to let out my feelings about everything. Bottling up too much emotion is never a good thing. I just get more and more stressed until I finally burst and yell and scream at everyone around me. Normally the only person listening is Allan and he lets me shout until it's all out then hugs me to make it all better.

But Allan's not here now. That thought alone makes tears spring to my eyes. I'm normally so strong for everyone but I'm truly alone at the moment, there's no one on this train who I can talk to about anything, let alone shout at them for something that isn't their fault. I kiss the ring on my fourth finger, hoping Allan knows I'm thinking of him and wishing I was home with him. I'd probably stay at his house if Derren had tried to kill me on any other day.

"I miss you." I whisper into the darkness, like he can actually hear me. I don't think my fragile state is helped by our mad mentor, Malik screaming down the halls in a drunken rage. Some of us are trying to sleep, _trying_ being the important word. I can't sleep so I just think some more.

At least Derren and Mum are somewhere where they can't hurt anyone ever again. They're either locked in the Justice Building or dead. I hope for the latter. But that's my own mother that I'm hoping is dead, that's not right; I shouldn't want her dead but after what she did to January…

The tears that were threatening to fall before burst their banks and I sob loudly into my fluffy Capitol pillow.

The door cracks open after a few minutes and a shaft of light falls across the carpet from the lamp outside.

"February?" Says Hugo quietly, in case it's not me sobbing and he doesn't want to wake me. There's not point pretending – who else would it be?

"Yes, Hugo?" I say, trying to hide the obvious recently-been-crying tone from my voice.

"I was just checking you were ok…" Yeah, I'm fine. The noise you thought was sobbing was just me laughing in my sleep, don't worry. Then I remember Hugo's story. He's the Bread Guy. He stole bread from a Peacekeeper and his whole family was killed for it.

"Hugo, could you come here?" I ask. He creeps across and sits on the end of my bed.

"What is it, February?" He asks quietly. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes." I say, then there's a pause while I think what exactly I need. "Could you sleep in here tonight?" I say, without really thinking. I realise how that must've sounded and quickly backtrack. "Wait, I mean, not in a dodgy way or anything, just… I hate being alone. And it won't be weird, sharing a bed or anything."

"Of course I will, February. I hate being alone too. I've just… got used to it." He says. I'm at a loss what to say back so I just lie back down and close my eyes. He wriggles into the bed but stays as far away from me as he can. I don't fight with him on how close he can come – it's probably better this way. After a few minutes he speaks up again. "February?"

"Yes, Hugo?"

"Are you really engaged? I mean, my friend Carmen used to wear a ring but she wasn't engaged or married." He asks. This brings a fresh stab of pain as I think that I might never see my wedding day.

"Yes. He's in our class at school." I thought me and Allan being together was common knowledge but now that I think, we never really told anyone about it so it's not unreasonable for Hugo to ask. "Do you know Allan?"

"Oh yeah. I know him. How did he afford that fancy ring?" I have to laugh at that. That's almost exactly what I thought.

"That's what I said. It was his mother's though." I wait for a beat. "They were already like my family."

"He's lucky."

"Erm…" I say, unconsciously moving away from him slightly.

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that." I relax slightly, but don't move back towards him because I'm not sure if he meant that as an insult or not. "Just… He can be sure of his future…"

"I know what you mean." I say, nodding.

_**Francis "Fran" Weaver, D8**_

"Up, up, up!" I say, opening Warp's curtains wide so that the harsh morning sun shines onto his face. He just rolls over and carries on snoring. "Listen, Warp, we're allies. That means you need to know some basic self-protection techniques." I stand, tapping my foot on his floor while he drags himself out of bed and into the shower without saying good morning.

In the end, I decide to go straight to breakfast without him because he's taking so long in the shower.

"Where's Warp? I thought you were waking him up!" Says Tabatha from the table, where she's sat with our mentor, Woof, who won the 18th Games, 12 years ago. The table is now laden with a whole manner of breakfast foods: bacon, ham, eggs, sausages, toast, cereal, about 20 types of jam and a bowl of fruit. I go over and join them; sitting with my napkin on my lap like Tabatha told me to yesterday. I see her smile at that like she's proud of me remembering my manners.

"He's in the shower. I _did_ wake him up but he's not much of a conversationalist first thing." I say quite snootily as I reach for an apple. Woof laughs like I've told a hilarious joke or something so I just stare at him, apple half way to my mouth until he explains.

"It's just funny. You worrying about that sort of thing just before you're going into the Games." He says, watching me carefully to see how I take a jibe like that. I'm not at all bothered by it actually because Lizza and I used to tease each other all the time; just because Woof means it slightly more literally is a fact than can be ignored. If I pretend it is harmless teasing then I can react as such.

"Yeah. Funny." I say offhandedly through a mouthful of apple. He looks at me as though I'm fascinating. A Tribute that isn't afraid of the Arena.

"Hmm…" He says, deep in thought. "Francis, you stand a chance of getting through this."

"A) it's just Fran." I swallow my bite of apple. "And b) we all have a chance Woof." I say, staring menacingly at him.

"Yes. What I meant-" He says, putting his elbows on the table and looking at me intently.

"I know what you meant. And I don't want to hear it. We all have a chance." I say acidly. What he meant was I have more of a chance than Warp, which may be true but I sure as hell don't want to hear it.

"You may not want to hear it, but you _need_ to hear it." He says, taking a hipflask from his pocket and adding a small amount to his orange juice. Great, he's a drunk too. Just then Warp walks in, his hair still damp. Warp can't hear this conversation so I stop Woof from talking and throwing Warp an apple.

"Consider it heard, understood… and hated." I say, staring at him, daring him to say more. "Come on, Warp. I need to teach you something." I say, stopping him from sitting down and pulling him out of the room and to the TV room at the end of the train.

"What?" He says, completely confused.

"You saw me throwing knives yesterday, didn't you?" I know he did, he walked in on it.

"Yeah. You were awesome." He says, staring at me like I'm teaching him life saving skills which I guess I am.

"I'm going to teach you how. I don't have very long but Woof's going to be no help. He won through a complete fluke." Warp opens his mouth, obviously about to defend his new idol. "That wasn't a question." I say, effectively stopping Warp from talking. "Here, try." I say, handing him my trusty knife and marking a place on the wall in front of us.

He carefully positions his feet, takes aim and launches the knife. The handle hits the wooden panel about 3 feet to the right of the target and it falls to the floor. I just stare at it while he stares at me, waiting for my assessment. This is going to take _forever_ – I was _never_ this bad.

_**Christian "Chris" Foster, D3**_

We sit around the dining table, just me, Ally and our mentors, Carl and Xenon. Xenon is just staring into space as she usually does around this time in the afternoon. Carl says she's thinking about her time in the Arena. It must have been especially hard for her because she was voted in by her District, not picked in a random, nearly-fair Reaping, they actually sent her to her death.

"So," He says, putting his hands together on the table as though opening a business deal. "We need to decide a few crucial things before we reach the Capitol."

"Let me guess," Ally butts in, mirroring Carl's posture almost exactly. Ally seems very impatient with Carl for some reason, either she thinks herself above him and looks down her nose at him or she thinks he's cleverer than her and therefore resents him. "We need to choose alliances, training strategies all that jazz."

"Yes. Correct." He says like a patronizing school teacher, which he pretty much is. He mentors kids at the school. I suppose he doesn't have anything better to do. "So, do you two want to be allies or not?"

I'm shocked into silence. I didn't even consider it, to be honest, because I probably won't survive past the blood bath. I look at Ally and she's watching me, calculating if I'd be of use to her. I drop my gaze to my knotted fingers and feel my tears welling again because I know what she's going to say.

"No." No surprises there. "I'm sorry Chris, but I can't protect you, I'd just be dangerous to you. You need to find an alliance that follows the rules, one that can take you far into the Games." I don't look up because she's just softening the blow with a kinder excuse than she could've used and she just thinks I'd be a waste of space. "It's not that I don't want you in an alliance, but I can't. I'm hoping to get District 7 and District 11 on board and, I'm sorry Chris, I just can't risk you like that."

District 7? Who was that? Oh… Hemmy. The rebel. And I think District 11 was getting sarcastic as well. The trouble makers. Probably not their male counterparts (unless they insist on it) because they weren't as outgoing as the girls but if they volunteer for the cause…

"I understand." I say, thinking that there's no point me arguing. Maybe she's right, I could find a decent alliance but then I'd just slow them down and get them hurt. No. I have to do this alone.

"Ok, so Ally, you're thinking District 7 and 11? Ok." Says Carl, determined to get back into this conversation and scribbling notes on a sheet of paper. Then he turns to me and I know I have to articulate my feelings further than _'I understand'_. "And you, Warp? Thought of anyone you want to be with?"

"No." I say, putting on a fake, reassuring smile. "I'm going to do it alone." Outside I sound quite brave and even Xenon turns to look at me in surprise, but inside I'm crying, mentally constructing a will and writing a eulogy. Slowly, Xenon looks at me and contributes, for the first time, to the conversation.

"I believe in you, lad."

Well, at least one of us does.


	17. Stylist Sessions

"_If you can dream it, you can do it. Always remember that this whole thing was started with a dream and a mouse."_ _My friend Livvy helped me with this chapter so credit to her :)_

**Chapter 16:** Stylist Sessions

_**Quartz "Q" Enright, D2**_

A sharp jabbing pain in my left side alerts me to the proximity of the youngest member of my prep team, Kathz. That bimbo bitch needs to watch where she's sticking her needles, or I may just turn her into a pin cushion myself. I don't let the pain show on my face, but I close my eyes and sigh, demanding everyone's attention.

"Kathz. What did I tell you about those pins?" I ask, subtly (or not-so-subtly) reminding her of my barely veiled threat earlier.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Enright, it's just this dress is very tight," I tense and the temperature of the room drops 10 degrees. "Oh no, that's not what I meant… It was designed this way, but…" She stops wittering under my steely glare. Is she calling me fat? Quartz Enright does not get fat, no matter how much delicious Capitol food she eats. I slowly tip my head to the side and stare at her.

"Pray tell, Kathz, what did you mean? See if you can save your job." I whisper menacingly.

"The fabric is elasticised because it's a jump suit. I _has_ to be tight or the effect wouldn't be the same," The effect? She's talking to me about the effect of a jump suit? I don't need the jumpsuit; people will sponsor me without the jumpsuit. I'm going to win. "It has to be tight because otherwise the hip spikes won't look the same. They would flop."

She's right about that so I let it go. My costume is one of a kind. It's a tight black jumpsuit with the shoulder pads covered in matte black spikes. The hip panels are the same except they protrude half a foot on either side, accentuating my figure. The shoes are pretty special too; high heeled, lace up boots with tiny silver spikes covering the heel. They represent me perfectly; elegant and breathtaking but deadly. I can barely walk in them but they'll make me as tall as Flint – something that I need. If I look like a little girl next to him them no one will sponsor me. My legs look a hundred metres long between the shoes and the skin tight patent leather jumpsuit. The 'spike' theme is extended to the cuffs on my wrists, the cluster earrings and the necklace at my throat. I love everything about this costume – I'm fierce but beautiful.

"Lafecta!" I scream, summoning my main stylist. She scurries into sight with barely more confidence than her team and I fold my arms. "You've done well, Lafecta. I love this costume. When I win the Games you can be my personal fashion adviser." She grimaces at the thought and I glare at her.

That bitch has it coming to her.

_**Phoebe "Fee" Electra, D5**_

__"So, Fee. Remember what I told you about the headdress?" My stylist asks me, adjusting something on my bodice.

"Yes. Don't fiddle with it or it'll come undone," I respond, trying to remember what else she told me.

"Good. I've changed it slightly so you can wear the hair comb, like you asked, but you have to be careful with it now." I nod and she bustles off, orange hair flying everywhere as she tries (without success) to swat away a hoverfly. A few seconds later another woman sidles up to me, sighing at the sight of me. Is it that bad?

"Hello," she sighs again, looking very bored. "I've been asked to sort your makeup. You need to look more like a butterfly apparently." She continues to mutter to herself as she reapplies power to my eyelids and makes my lips stand out with some sort of gloss. "I know it has to go with the dress but is it really necessary? … The hair comb they said… Well, it's made my job harder… As if it'll make a difference…"

"Erm, is everything ok?" I ask tentatively, hoping that I'm not the sole reason for her distress.

"Of course it is, honey." She says, giving me a transparent smile. Everything is not ok, obviously.

My dress is exquisitely designed so the bottom half looks like the cooling tower of a power plant but, rather than steam coming out, there are hundreds of butterflies from the size of a coin to a foot wide. Apparently it supposed to signify suburban beauty – beauty rising from pain. I kind of like it; not only does it signify my district but it lets me wear my hair comb as well. According to my stylist, the whole idea came from the hair comb, which was the only dash of colour in the Town Square.

"Ok, sweetie, no crying," says the makeup artist as she wanders off. I've been crying intermittently since I arrived in the Capitol. I'm so scared. My mood keeps switching between scared out of my wits because I'll soon die and excited about seeing the Capitol with all its bright colours and pretty lights. Right now I'm trying to make the most of being here, but there was a moment earlier when I burst into tears. Luckily that was before they started my makeup.

When the time comes, we leave my preparation room and meet Aidan and his team at the elevators. He looks so tall in his costume. It's he same colour as the chimney part of mine but there are no butterflies for him, just a plain dark grey suit with grey shirt and tie. He looks distant and cold and I know right away that he's having one of his 'episodes'. I tap his arm and he snaps out of it.

"Come on, Aidan. It's time," I say, smiling reassuringly at him. He looks me up and down for a second then hugs me. I've learnt that he likes hugs and I don't stop him because I like them too. I think of Aidan as a friend now. We've decided not to ally because we don't want to get too attached but if we come across each other in the Arena, we'll try to help each other.

"You look very pretty, Fee," he says and when he pulls back, he has tears in his eyes. Seeing my new friend so sad makes me upset too and before I know it, tears are flowing down my face and Golly is wiping them away with a soft handkerchief.

"Don't cry, sweetie." He soothes me as he hands me the scrap of material. "Here, keep this, just in case you need it in the chariot." I hold onto it for dear life. "Ok, let's get this show on the road, people." He shouts to our entourage. When we step into the elevator, he squeezes my shoulder then strokes my hair. It's nice. It's like having a daddy. Why am I making so many friends just as I'm about to die?

_**Sage Wilmslow, D11**_

__The ride down to the chariots is tense for so many reasons. Almost since we set foot on the train, Demeter has not shut up about tactics and alliances and sponsors. I get it, she wants to survive, but could we have just two minutes of silence? She's making Gladdie seem like she's in a coma or something. Demeter's also very violent and she seems to find the loudest ways possible of releasing her pent up frustration. On the first night on the train I got up in the middle of the night for a drink and I found her sleeping in the TV room with shattered plates everywhere. The next day we had new china for breakfast.

This would've all been fine except for the fact that everything overwhelmed me a bit at lunch time and I snapped at her, telling her that we're all going to die anyway and could she maybe shut up. It soon escalated into a major argument and our mentor, Seeder, had to physically pull Demeter off me. Nina, our ditzy escort just stood to one side screaming about murder.

Now we're all stuck in an enclosed space, breathing the same air and trying to stay calm.

"So, how was your prep team, Sage?" Seeder asks in a kind voice as we descend into the bowels of the building. She's quite attractive with long dark hair and flawless skin. She also has these incredible eyes like dark chocolate. She intimidates me.

"Good," I say, then turn back to face the doors, which, as if on cue, open to reveal the gathered Tributes. I almost pass out at the sight of the Careers (only 4, where are the others?), gathered next to the District 1 Chariot. All the other Districts are stood near their chariots talking to their partners. I need to patch things up with Demeter or they'll see the weakness there. "Listen Demeter -"

"Don't worry Sage, we're all going to die anyway, they won't mind if you're alone." She spits at me then walks straight to the District 7 girl (Hemmy, maybe) and they start to talk intensely. How can she just walk up and introduce herself to people?

"Sage," I feel a hand on my shoulder and look around to see Seeders behind me, looking at me with concern. "Is there anyone you'd like to ally with? I can introduce you if you like?" I can't turn up with a baby sitter so I just shake off her hand but smile at her.

"I can do this. It's fine," I say unconvincingly. "I think I'll talk to District 12." He's stood talking to his District partner and stroking the horse's mane gently. He looks likeable enough and he might be my only chance at an alliance. I stroll over, wiping my palms on this ridiculous costume. We're dressed as pieces of fruit but her pear costume is overall more flattering than my apple one. I hold out my hand to the guy and he looks up nervously. "Sage Wilmslow, District 11." I say confidently.

"Hi. I'm Joiner Humphrey," he says, taking my hand and shaking it, "This is Frequently Mine." He adds, gesturing to his District partner. The way he looks at me warns me about the sort of relationship they have. They're like brother and sister.

"Well hello. I was wondering if you'd be interested in an alliance," I say, putting my offer straight on the table and hoping to God they think I'd bring something to an alliance.

"Listen, Sage," says Joiner and it's obvious he's going to decline just from his tone of voice. "I would, but… I can't. Me and Free aren't even allying because I don't think I could get to know someone like that then possibly kill them later," he glances down at Free who nods a tiny nod. "I think the guy from District 5 needs an alliance, you should try him."

"Right, thanks." I answer quietly then walk away, hanging my head. Seeder is waiting by the District 11 chariot for me. We have sandy coloured horses, though I'm not sure why. It's probably because they couldn't think what else to give us. I shake my head at her and she drops her gaze to the floor. "He said District 5 needs someone, but I'm not going through that again."

"Ok. So, you'll do this alone?" I nod. "Right… I'll stand with you until it's time then." She leans against the side of the chariot and bites her lip, sadness the main expression on her pretty face. She knows that I'm not getting out of that Arena alive.

"Where's Demeter?" I ask her to break the uneasy silence. She points across the room to the District 7 area, where she's still in deep discussion with the rebel girl. Suddenly Hemmy looks over at me, I smile and wave but then Demeter says something and they both laugh and look away. "Great." I say to Seeder. "My own District partner hates me."

"Well…" She says, patting my back reassuringly. "Hate's a strong word."

_**Rye Miller, D9**_

__Aston and I stand together at our cart, surreptitiously glancing around the room to see who else is allied. There's the obvious Career group but they look small this year with just four. After a few minutes of searching, I see the District 4 girl next to her chariot plaiting a piece of the horse's mane and Flint from 2 is patting his steely grey horse and shooting furious glances at Q, his female counterpart. I wonder what she's done that has made him so angry – angry enough to ditch the Careers.

"Hmm. District 2 has split up," says Aston, following my gaze and furrowing his brow. He looks quite handsome when he does that. He'll get some serious sponsors if he keeps that up. I press my finger to one of the wrinkles in his forehead and he grins at me. "Sorry."

"No, I was just thinking…" I feel myself blush. "You look attractive when you scowl. You should do it for the Capitolites. You'll get sponsors."

"_We'll_ get sponsors. We're a team now." He reminds me, smiling down at me.

"That's right." I say, returning his grin. When Helena our mentor had asks us if we wanted to be allies, Aston jumped at the opportunity. At the time I thought he was just keeping up appearances for Helena's sake, but now we've slept in the same bed every night, talking into the small hours and I found out that he really does want to ally. Now we're great friends and possibly… no, don't go there. Just friends.

I glance around the room again and try to pick out other alliances. The twins from District 10 are whispering together in their area and the two from District 8 are on the other side of us, sat on the floor and laughing. They've obviously allied. I turn around to tell Aston my theory but he's staring at my wrist, which is resting against our golden chariot. I've caught him staring at my medical bracelet several times now and it's getting tiresome.

"You know, if you're that interested, you could just ask," I say, shocking him. I don't think he realised I was watching him staring at me. He blushes and stammers something about not wanting to invade my privacy. "I don't mind," I tell him then hold my wrist in front of his eyes.

"_Mentally deranged?_ That doesn't sound good," he mutters, scowling again. I grin.

"Depends on your viewpoint, I guess. My stylist wanted to cut it off but it's my token." I explain. I glance around the room again to see if anyone's listening and I see the Careers staring at me, some in anticipation and some in boredom. I realise after a few moments that it must look like I'm about to punch him. That would undermine our whole plan though so I take a deep breath and drop my hand, grabbing his and gripping it tightly. "The Careers are staring," I whisper in his ear. He glances over.

"So they are. Sorry about this." He says and before I can ask him what he's sorry for, he raises my knuckles to his mouth and kisses them, then caresses my cheek. He smiles shyly at me, gauging my reaction, and I grin back.

"Sorry about this." I echo his words then tangle the fingers of my free hand into his hair and pull his face to mine, kissing him full on the mouth. I have no idea what possesses me to do it but he reciprocates, his hand at the small of my back, holding me flush against him. When he pulls away I have to fight to stop my impish grin from showing. "I take that back, I'm not sorry at all."

"Me neither." He says laughing. At the same time we lean our backs against the chariot and look back at the room. Nearly everyone is staring at us, shocked into silence. Some look like they're disgusted at us but some, particularly the girl – February? - From 6 is watching with longing and pity. She's the engaged one isn't she? I smile and she waves back. "Ok, pretend to talk to me about something interesting." He says, turning back to me, his face crimson from embarrassment.

"Good idea. Erm I don't know what to talk about. Just laugh." At the same time we burst into almost-convincing laughs and everyone starts up their own conversations again, leaving us in our private bubble once more.

"Tell me about the bracelet." He says, fiddling with the plastic on the hand he's still holding.

"Well, when I was 12, I asked my mother if it would be ok if I volunteered to go into the Hunger Games," his mouth pops open in sheer shock and I smile ruefully at him, "Yeah. She took me to the doctor and he gave me a list of 'risky activities'. I remember that really well. There was harmless stuff like climbing trees and swimming in ponds – stuff that isn't dangerous at all, but then there were other things…"

"Like volunteering for the Hunger Games?" He cuts in, frowning.

"Yeah, like volunteering for the Hunger Games…" I try to remember what else was on the list. "I can't remember anything else, but he asked me to tick the ones that I would do and cross the ones I wouldn't." I wrinkle my nose at the thought of the patronizing doctor. "The results came back and I'm mentally deranged apparently. For wanting to experience some adrenaline. He practically welded the bracelet on."

"But…" He says in a forced calm voice. "I thought you volunteered to save Carrie."

"I did," Oh no, is he angry? "I wasn't going to volunteer at all, I'd gotten over that particular urge," I lie quickly. I really don't want Aston hating me! "But then you were reaped… then Carrie and I couldn't let you go together." I close my eyes and imagine being forced to kill my own sibling. It makes this lie much easier to tell. "It was cruel." I say, reopening them and look beseechingly at Aston. He gazes at me with wonder and adoration and marvel. He dips his head and kisses me chastely on the lips.

"That was brave. Thank you." He says timidly.

"Anytime."

_**Corallina "Cora" Radcliffe, D4**_

__I run my hands down the smooth scales of my skirt again, marvelling at their iridescence. I'm dressed as a mermaid. Not very original but I love it. My dress transitions smoothly from a blue, fitted bodice into the pale pink scales of a fin then flares at my calves into a coral pink tail. Considering I'm in the Capitol, this is relatively normal. I'm lucky. Looking at some of the others (particularly 5 and 11) all I can feel is gratitude to my stylist.

"Oi, 4!" I hear someone shout and my heart rate picks up slightly. The Careers are finally approaching me. I don't want to be part of their pack. They relish the idea of killing other people. I know I have to face them though, so I turn around.

"Her names Cora…" Poseidon says quietly from somewhere at the back. Damian cuffs him over the back of his head and he falls silent. Anger flares in me. We're not even in the Arena yet.

"So, 4. How come you didn't come to us?" Says the blonde one threateningly, flicking her perfectly curled hair. I look up and down her costume and I have to contain my laugh. She's wearing a white corset with shards of mirrors scattered from one corner in what is probably an artistic way. Her tiny hot pants are covered with bits of mirror as well but they are much closer together, giving the impression that her backside reflects light. Her knee high white stockings and elbow length gloves are made out of silk and are held up by frilly garters. She's also dripping in diamonds. At her throat, on her fingers, through her hair. Even the shoes she's wearing (ridiculous strappy, white heels) are decorated with them. Her entire costume is made to show off her impressive figure and her long, toned legs. I wonder if she can breathe in that corset.

"I thought if you wanted me in the pack- er, _alliance_, you would come to get me," I say back, staring steadily in her eyes. I refuse to be intimidated by this bimbo.

"That as may be, 4, but we don't like to wait," purrs the dark haired one, towering over me in her huge, spiky wedge heels. Her voice is deceptively soft, like a cat about to strike. I don't like people dictating my life – if they don't like to wait then they should've come over sooner. I make eye contact with Poseidon and he gives me a pleading look, but they'll have to ask me to join. I'm not giving up first.

"So?" This throws them all.

"So what?" the tall guy grunts. Is he Damian? He actually looked scarier on screen.

"Are you going to ask me to join?"

"Yes. Will you join us?" Says Damian, earning withering looks from the two girls. The blonde one puts her arm around his waist and pulls him close, warning me away from him.

"I'll think about it," I say, wishing that my stylist had put me in higher heels. If they weren't wearing those stupid shoes then I'd definitely be taller than them.

"Well," the girl from 2 says, "You have until the gong goes off. They you're fresh meat." With that lovely parting note, they separate off back to their own chariots. Poseidon walks slowly towards me.

"Listen, Cora, I know you don't want to be with the Careers but we have to. If we don't we'll be slaughtered in the Bloodbath," he begs me like this until the five minute warning sounds through the speakers. Only five minutes. It feels like there's an alien doing somersaults in my stomach. I'm so excited. I smooth my scales once more and hop into the chariot, ignoring his spiel.

_**Alessia "Ally" Monroe, D3**_

I look over at Hemmy and Demeter again; they're still talking next to their chariot. They're the two that I want to ally with so it would make sense for me to go over there right now and ask. Except I'm scared. Really scared. What if they reject me?

I pick at the hem of my ridiculously short blue dress in disgust. This wasn't my original costume but it's almost as bad. There's the blue dress, which would be bad on it's own but put that with the blue platform heels and the blue fishnet tights and the blue jewellery and blue makeup and I look like a complete numpty. Apparently it was the best they could get at short notice, but that's no reassurance.

"Hey, Ally," says Chris as he approaches me. He's only just got out of the lift. I wonder vaguely what kept him, but don't ask. I like the kid but I don't care that much.

"Hey Chris, you look good," I reply, finally realising why I'm all in blue. My other costume wasn't blue but it would still go with Chris'. He's wearing a suit the same hue as my dress. _That's_ why it had to be this colour.

"So do you. What did they have to do to get you into that?" He says. I stare at him for a few seconds before I understand that he's joking. Thank God for that. If he found out… The truth is that after I'd refused my first costume, his mentor, Carl, came to my room and bargained with me on behalf of Xenon. I knew the only reason she wasn't there to do it herself was because she's having a really bad time of it back here in the Capitol. Anyway, Carl said that if I wore the dress I could have anything I wanted. I don't really want much – especially not from the Capitol, but I could think of one thing. If I get any money from sponsors, he has to give it to Chris and put it in his account. Chris has a higher chance of getting out of the Arena alive and I'll do anything I can to help him. Carl was shocked but agreed, just to get me in the damn dress, I think.

I laugh unconvincingly at his joke.

"Hey, Ally Monroe?" Says a timid voice. I look up and the two people I really wanted to see are in front of me. Hemmy Austbury and Demeter Ceres. Demeter's the one talking and that strikes me as odd – Hemmy always seemed the more outspoken of the two. Demeter looks at my outfit and frowns. "How is that technology?" She asks quietly.

"It's not. I refused to wear my first outfit. They wanted me to wear two coils of wire." I gesture one hand to my chest and the other to my hips, showing them what I would've been wearing. They wrinkle their noses. "Indeed. Allies?" I ask, completely out of the blue. I figure that's what they want. Why would they come and talk to me if they didn't want an alliance?

"Definitely. That's what we're here for," Demeter sighs and turns to Chris. "Do you want to be with us, too?" She asks him. He looks at me like he's overwhelmed. He's just a kid; he shouldn't have to do this.

"I don't want Chris in an alliance with us." I say, they both gape at me. "We'll get him killed. If not by another Tribute then by a Gamemaker."

"That's what I said to Ash." Says Hemmy, speaking up for the first time and waving at her chariot, where Ash stands alone, knotting his fingers nervously.

"Sage doesn't like me, so I guess it's the three of us." Demeter says, and then glances at Hemmy, who nods encouragingly. "You should know, Ally. We have a slightly different agenda for when we get into the Arena…"

"I was counting on it," I say, my entire impression of these Games brightening up. "But we can't talk about that here…"

"Meet us on the roof at midnight," Hemmy whispers, covering her mouth so no one can lip read her. I nod once and they drift back to their sections and clamber into their chariots. I have an alliance. I grin slyly.

The siren wails around the room, announcing one minute until show time. I turn to Chris who stares at me, wide eyed and terrified. I pat his shoulder and help him into the chariot. As soon as we're both aboard, the horses start shuffling forward towards the gates.

"Ally…?"

"Yeah, Chris?"

"Good luck."


	18. The Chariot Rides

****_So, how is everyone? I'm hunky dorey, thank you. Who else got results yesterday? I DID! I did alright, I guess, apart from Business Studies, but who cares about Business Studies? I don't! Sorry to anyone who likes Business. I hate it. That sucks. Sorry, I think I'm going crazy. Crazier than a camel in the Arctic. Byeeee! - Dizzy xx_

_"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." - Albert Camus_

**Chapter 17:** The Chariot Rides

_**Athena Diamond, D1**_

The sound of cheering and screaming deafens me as Damian and I are pulled into the Capitol. It's just as beautiful as I could've imagined, pale pink pavements and bright, glamorous buildings line the streets. It's fantastic. I'll have to spend as much time as possible here once I'm announced Victor.

Being the first District out, we have the entire countries attention and I'm sure as hell going to take advantage of that. I'm the most beautiful here, but sometimes other things over power beauty, like fierceness or humility, but tonight I'm going to make sure everyone remembers me. I'm the most beautiful and they will pay attention to me.

I glance up at the huge screens suspended from buildings and smile in the most breathtaking way I can manage. The cheering gets louder and at first I think it's me - I'm finally getting the response I want – but then I look behind me and realise it's because District 2 just appeared. Suddenly, it's like my whole world is falling apart. Why are they not looking at me anymore? I'm nicer to look at than any of _them_. I scowl and Damian laughs quietly.

"What?" I snap, glaring at him while still trying to smile for the cameras.

"You thought you'd be centre of attention the whole time? Wake up and smell the roses, Diamond, there are 24 of us. Even being from District 1 doesn't guarantee you more airtime," he says, easy to hear because of his closeness, despite the polite applause for District 3. What does he mean? Of course I'll get more attention that them!

"I _will_ get more attention than them!" I hiss angrily, then pull him to me and kiss him, pushing my tongue between his lips and knotting my hands in his dark hair before he shoves me away. I ignore the rejection and press my lips against his once more, not relenting when he tries to prise my hands from his hair. "I deserve more attention than them!" I jeer once I pull back. He looks livid.

"Oh, I don't know. Q's pretty damn hot," he growls at me. Anger sparks in me. The only thing hot about Q is her temper! Besides, Damian is mine!

"No, she's a slut!" I shriek, my voice jumping a few octaves in my fury. He just laughs at me and waves at the crowds again, who scream his name. Not mine. His. "What are you laughing at?"

"You're in no position to call anyone a slut, babe," he says, mockingly. Is he sneering at me? How dare he! I'm the mayor's daughter! I aim a slap at his shoulder but he grabs my wrist and lets our hands fall between us, still together but less obviously violent. "Listen, darling," he snarls at me, tightening his grip on my wrist until it's painful. _Oww!_ "You're not as irresistible as you think. Sure, you're nice in the absence of a real girl, but nothing special. You're just another slut." He says, emphasising the last sentence. I feel my eyes fill with tears. But what about on the train?

"But the train…" I whisper, sounding childish and pathetic. "You gave as good as you got, Damian!" I say louder and more aggressively, more me. He just chuckles humourlessly.

"Listen, Blondie, like I said, you're a distraction," he says, letting go of my wrist and stepping away from me with a smirk, "Nothing more. You're just a whore."

My tears spill over but I desperately wipe them away, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible. I am not a whore. I like to have fun and enjoy Daddy's money, but there's more to me than that. I'm a vicious killer. I'll show them. I'll show them all!

_**Aidan Gray, D5**_

Wow, I'm nervous. My palms are sweating like mad! I try to wipe off some of the moisture onto my trousers but that doesn't stop it. Oh well. Who cares if I have sweaty palms? The only person close enough to really know is Fee and she's trying to control her own problems. She's still crying, dabbing at her tears with Golly's handkerchief. I wrap my arms around her in a hug and rub soothing circles on her back. One of her butterflies pokes me in the eye and I swat it away, like it's the real thing. I mutter comforting nonsense to her for a couple of minutes before our chariot starts moving, and then I pull back and hold her hand, squeezing reassuringly.

The Capitolites are still yelling for District 4 by the time our grey ponies trot out of the building. There's no swell in the noise like there was for the Career Districts, which is disappointing but not entirely unexpected. We're just measly District 5 in our chimney costumes. Sure, little Fee is cute with her butterflies and her childish (if somewhat tearful) smile, but cuteness doesn't really get you anywhere in these Games.

"Hey, Fee, look!" I say, pointing to the screens which I just noticed are showing out faces. "Smile!" She giggles in a sweet, carefree way and we wave at the crowds with our free hands. Soon enough though, our faces are replaced with District 6, who look distinctively more memorable than us.

Their hair is backcombed and sprayed so that it stays in artistic disarray, but I'm not sure how that ties into the rest of their outfits. February is wearing black stockings and a dress made out of carefully structures sheets of metal that pull in her waist and show off her hips. It's very angular and combined with her fierce, determined expression, it's terrifying. Hugo is wearing a steel grey dress shirt and black trousers but his dinner jacket is made of the same stuff as February's dress. He mutters something into her ear and she nods, smiling slyly, before pulling her left hand up to her mouth, kissing her fourth finger and throwing her hand into the air in a fist. The cameras immediately zoom in and show her engagement ring. Oh yes, the big news. The arrival of District 7 is ignored as the Capitol goes wild for her. The rest of us may as well be dead.

_**Hugo Ataylo, D6**_

The response is more than I could've hoped for. I knew the Capitol was going crazy waiting for more information about February and her engagement, but when I told her to kiss her ring I never imagined they could react like that. Maybe they aren't as heartless as they seem.

The only negative part of our little attention stunt is that the other Tributes are now staring at us, some with polite indifference like the pair in front of us, some with disbelief that we'd sink so low (like the rebel girl from 3), but some of them… If looks could kill… The harshest looks are being directed at us from Athena from District 1. I guess she's used to getting all the attention or something because she looks ever so slightly put out. Understatement of the century. I'm pretty sure she's plotting how best to skin February.

However, the most shocking reaction is what I see when I look behind us. Hemmy from 7 who famously called the Capitol ridiculous at the Reaping is jumping up and down, cheering: "Go February! Woo! Let's get her home!" Now, call me crazy, but shouldn't she want to get home herself? Maybe this is her way of rebelling. Why does she want February to get home more than her? That's stupid. I turn back to February, tap her on the arm then point to the District 7 chariot behind us. She sees what's going on and laughs in disbelief.

"No way!" She says through her laughing fit. "That's crazy!" She adds before waving at Hemmy, grinning at her then blowing her a kiss. This isn't the February that I've come to know. The February that I know wouldn't have associated herself with Hemmy from fear of retribution in the Arena.

"Are you ok?" I ask her. She turns to me and in the second before her mask goes on, I see the concern in her eyes. "Oh. You _are_ worried about it." To which she nods solemnly before smiling and waving at the Capitolites again. Well, at least no one could accuse her of being a bad actress.

_**Jay Freescott, D10**_

"Come on, Robyn. Remember what Clay and Fawn said?" I say, turning to her and subtly reminding her of our mentors' final words to us: _"Appear likable or you'll both die. Don't pretend you aren't both trying to get the other home. Do this for both of your sakes. Be nice!" _

"I don't care what they said, I hate these people. We can survive without their money!" She says stubbornly, not letting go of the side of the chariot but looking at me from the corner of her eyes. I see the tenacity there and decide that it'll be easier and less painful to drop the matter. One last try though…

"One smile? For me?" And because I've made it about my own survival, I know she'll comply. She rolls her eyes and huffs before taking a deep breath, raising her chin slightly and beaming at the crowd. I feel my jaw drop in surprise – she actually did it! – But contain it pretty quickly because we're finally on the screens. We'd flashed up there for about a second when we first came out, but the producers were obviously thinking about something else and cut back to District 6 almost immediately. But now, there is a perfect shot of both me and Robyn smiling. No doubt the first they've got – Robyn isn't known for being entirely happy all the time.

"Ok?" She snaps after a few seconds.

"Perfect." I answer as we pull into the City Circle and wait for President Fungi's speech. "Thank you." I say, then take her hand and squeeze it. She turns to me and I see the fear in her eyes. Fear that she would never let anyone but me see. My heart breaks. We're not even in the Arena yet and her morale is broken.

_**Joiner Humphrey, D12**_

About a minute after me and Free take our places in the Circle, Fungi stands from her seat and everything goes quiet, the whole country waiting in anticipation for our dear President's speech. She clears her throat and taps the microphone, making sure it's turned on. After a burst of static that grates on my eardrums and causes Free to squeal, she starts her speech.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem, to the 30th Annual Hunger Games!" The crowds erupt into cheers and I see some of the other Tributes clapping politely. "And, more importantly, we welcome our Tributes!" Another round of applause makes the ground shudder, shaking our chariot. A sickening clip of the District 1 Tributes appears on the screen, with Athena, the girl, smiling suggestively and Damian glaring fiercely, but still waving and acknowledging Fungi's statement. They're here by choice, damn them. "We wish you the best of luck, and may the odds be ever-"

"Yay for dead kids!" Yells Ally Monroe from her chariot, earning gasps from all the Tributes and squawks of disapproval from the crowd, not to mention a death stare from the President.

"Yeah, who doesn't love a good funeral?" Hemmy shouts from her own chariot.

"Go Hunger Games!" Demeter shouts sarcastically from just in front of me and Free, putting her two pennies in. The three of them start to cheer while the crowds gasp and make rather loud _tchth_-ing noises. None of us Tributes are sure what to do so we just look at each other and laugh awkwardly until our horses start trotting away again. No, not trotting. _Galloping_. They want to get us (well, mainly Hemmy, Ally and Demeter) out of sight before they can do too much damage.

_**Demeter "Demi" Ceres, D11**_

We reach the training centre and I leap off my chariot, running to meet my allies in the corner.

"That was fantastic!" Hemmy whispers, obviously ecstatic.

"Oh my… Wow!" Ally stammers.

"Not bad for an impromptu show!" I giggle too loudly. The other two _shhh_ me and look around guiltily, wondering if anyone heard. Much to my dismay, the entire room is staring at us with shocked expressions. This is incredible, we've made an impression! "Sorry." I mutter, not bothering to take the smile off my face. All three of us are grinning like lunatics.

"Well, I think that was particularly childish!" Athena squeaks for everyone to hear, striding over to our group and towering over me. I cower back, trying not to look too scared and back up slightly, putting some space between me and Athena's breasts, which are at about my head height. Hemmy, however doesn't seem to like bullies. She steps in front of me and folds her arms, glaring at Athena.

"Listen, princess, do you really think we care what you think? Do you think we care what _anyone_ thinks? If we aren't afraid of the Capitol, what makes you think we'd listen to a bimbo slut like you?" She says. The funniest part of this whole confrontation is that, despite her heels, Athena is still a couple of inches shorter than Hemmy. Hemmy's practically like a giant. I fidget anxiously with my bracelet from Iris. The thread is getting worryingly thin from all my fiddling, so I stop and just wring my fingers instead.

"You should care what I think, 7, because I'm going to win these Games!" The whole room gasps apart from her fellow Careers, who just look embarrassed by her behaviour, especially Damian, who rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Keep telling yourself that, princess." Says Hemmy, before turning back to us and whispering so quietly that I we have to lean in, "Midnight, remember?" After we've both nodded, she turns, smirks at Athena and walks over to the elevator. "Coming, Ash?" He scuttles to her side and they enter the lift together. "Night, fellow Tributes! Don't let the bed bugs bite!"

After a few hours of sitting around listening to lectures on manners from Nina (which does nothing to endear her to me) and being frowned at by Seeder (who has obviously picked her favourite, and it isn't me) I scuttle off to my room to prepare for my meeting with Ally and Hemmy. What are we going to talk about? What hasn't been said? What should I wear? Flats or heels? I mentally berate myself for being so stupid. We're rebels. Who cares what we look like?

At first I was unsure about joining Hemmy and Ally because they are very obviously rebels, whereas I just come off as slightly resentful. I don't have the strength of character that they have. The other two seem to have written off the idea of going home entirely, but I can't do that. I have family that I have to get back to. The image of Briann swirls in my head and tears come to my eyes. What would he think if he'd seen today's performance? Hell, he _did_ see today's performance. The whole country did. Damn. What have I done? I've sacrificed all possible sponsors with one sentence. I jump as the alarm clock that I set starts beeping quietly next to me. Five minutes until midnight.

I slowly slide off my bed and creep over to the door, careful to avoid that one creaky floorboard that I found earlier. The door swings open without complaint and I sneak down the corridor to the communal room, where I find Sage snoozing on the couch under a blanket. Why can't he sleep in his own bed? It would make getting out easier.

I press the button to summon the elevator and cringe when the doors open with a loud _ping._ I press my eyes closed, listening for any sound that might mean I'm about to be caught. No one comes running though so I walk inside and press the button for the roof. That was easier than I thought it would be. I had images of fighting off Peacekeepers and Avoxes to reach my goal.

When the doors open again, I am hit by a cool breeze which is invigorating but slightly unwelcome. I pull my jacket tighter around me and walk over to the edge, resting my hands on the railing.

"It's nice up here, isn't it?" Says Hemmy's voice from somewhere on my left. I start. Where did she come from? She looks different... Has she been crying? Jeez…

"Yes…" I say vaguely. She steps closer and mirrors my stance. Something's definitely wrong. "Hemmy… Are you ok?" I ask tentatively. She just sighs and shakes her head. "Do you want to talk about it?" She sighs again then turns to me.

"It's my mentor, Dahlia…"

"The loud one from the Reaping?" She lets out a small, breathy laugh.

"Yeah. That's the one…" She hesitates, letting her eyes wander across the roof. "She's given up on me already. She prefers Ash…" She explains, looking back at the panoramic view. I know that feeling. Sage is obviously the favourite in our apartment. "I want to cause trouble in the Arena, I really do, but I also want to get home. I've got a brother and a job… A guy I love." Tears start to fall down her face again and I know there's nothing I can do. Hemmy isn't the sort of person to appreciate hugs – that much is obvious – and there's nothing else in my power to do.

"What's his name?" I ask shyly, wondering if this is the right path to take at all.

"Oscar." I notice how her hand strays to the rosary she's wearing as she says it. It's a small gesture but it speaks volumes.

"He gave you that, didn't he?" I ask, pointing to the necklace.

"Yeah." She holds it out for me to see. "It's Hemlock wood, you can tell from the darker stripes and the smell. It's poisonous." I recoil and she laughs. "Only if you eat it."

"Oh. _Oh_. Hemlock. I get it," I laugh at my slowness and she lets out a reluctant chuckle.

"Yeah."

"I want to get home too. You have more chance than me though. You'll see. The odds will come out with the training scores and show you."

"You have siblings?" She asks.

"Yeah. I have an older brother, Briann, and a younger brother, Saturn."

"Parents?" Parents. Oh yes. My parents are just fantastic.

"I have a mother. She's nice and caring – everything a mother should be, but my father… He's no father, really." I pull up the front of my jacket and show her the bruises that have developed nicely since Dad hit me on Reaping morning. They're going an attractive greeny-yellow colour. Hemmy gasps.

"Jeez."

"Yeah." It's in that moment that I realise Hemmy deserves to go home more than me. I'm not really needed at home. Briann can take care of Saturn and protect Mum from Dad; Iris will get over my death eventually and make new friends; I don't have a special boy to go home to and marry. There's almost no reason for me to go home apart from selfishness. Hemmy, on the other hand has people counting on her. A brother that probably depends on her, someone she loves who loves her back. "You deserve Victory more than me." I whisper, fresh tears coming to my eyes.

"We all deserve Victory. We all deserve peace. That's why we're doing this. We're doing this so that we can bring peace to the nation. One spark. That's all that's needed. Fire catches. One spark and the Capitol will burn, taking the Games with it."

"We'll provide the spark."

"We _are_ the spark. The three of us… We will be the spark."

I _am_ the spark.


	19. Training

_One quick thing… Or several, depending on what springs to mind…_

_1) I genuinely did the maths and from the start of the Private Training Sessions, there are 69 hours until the gong goes off. I triple checked it and every time it came up with the same dirty number. Sorry. _

_2) (We all knew it wouldn't stop at 1) Just three more chapters until the start of the Games (Private Sessions, Interviews and The Night Before – the latter will be a super short chapter). Trust me – I want to start these Games as much as you do :)_

_3) How's everyone? I feel like I've not posted in weeks! That's because I haven't posted in weeks…) Anyway, I'd love to know how you're all doing, so review or PM, I love to hear from y'all. _

_4) I feel like this is the only place I can be myself, so thanks for tolerating me! _

_Dizzy xx_

_Believe in yourself and try not to take anything personally.__– __Chris Kattan_

**Chapter 18:** Training

_**Frequently "Free" Mine, D12**_

__"Ok, Free, remember our training plan?"

"Stick together and learn survival," I turn away and roll my eyes, relieving some of the resentment I feel towards my District partner. It's wrong that I feel like this – he only has my best interests at heart, but I can't seem to think that way when he's reciting the correct fire lighting method or something while I'm trying to eat my toast in peace.

"Yes. Stick together and learn survival…" He says, before dropping into a mumble and repeating it. We decided on this last night when we realised that, without a previous Victor and therefore without a mentor between us, we'd have to survive on our own. It also means that our escort, Livvy, will be organising our sponsorships. That's a disaster waiting to happen.

"Children?" Livvy trills from round the corner before tottering into sight in, black, platform heels and a coal black gown with a lacy bodice, bright purple paint on her lips and pearls pinned through her hair as usual. "It's time to go," she twitters, clapping her hands excitedly. I resist the urge to roll my eyes again and follow her over to the elevator that will take us down to the basement training room. She ushers us in and presses the correct button with one long black nail. My tummy is doing flips as we see level after level flick past until we finally arrive where we need to be.

"After you," Joiner says, gesturing for me to exit first. I hold his hand again, like I did at the train station in District 12, then walk out of the elevator next to him. Everyone else is gathered there, the RA (Rebel Alliance) is together and the Careers are slouching, talking loudly and boisterously. Everyone else is either with their District partner or on their own.

"Ciao ciao!" Livvy calls as the elevator doors ping closed, making the Careers burst into fits of laughter at our expense… All of them except the girl from 4 who crosses her arms and takes a subtle step away.

"Come on, Free," Joiner mutters, white as a sheet as he leads me to the back of the group.

Joiner and I stand side by side in silence, waiting for training to start, but our silence is broken when a really tall boy with dark hair approaches us, smiling warmly.

"Hi, I'm Flint from District 2…" He holds out his hand to me and I reach to shake it, feeling very grown up.

"I'm Free from 12, this is Joiner, my friend and District partner," I reply warily, as he shakes Joiner's hand too. What can this Career want? Only he's not a Career – I've not seen him with them at all so far. Still, what does he want with us?

"I'm here to offer a proposition," he answers my unspoken query straight away, "I'm forming an alliance that's main goal is to protect the younger Tributes, such as yourself," he nods to me, "I was wondering if you would like to join us."

"'Us'?" I ask.

"Yes, Phoebe, from Five and Ash from Seven – he's agreed to help me with this. We're planning on asking Chris from Three." He explains quickly in a nice, friendly voice. I smile at him and he returns it. This is good.

"I'd love to… Joiner?" I say, turning to face Joiner. This has been our only problem, I think; the fact that I wanted to be in an alliance but Joiner doesn't want to get too attached to anyone in case the alliance makes it to the final 8. He swallows then turns to Flint.

"I can't, I'm sorry. Sorry Free…" He stammers. I nod understandingly.

"Ah. That's a shame, but it's ok, I understand," Flint says good-naturedly, "I'll go and talk to Chris then. See you. Free?"

After a second, I realise that he wants me to go with him. I just left Joiner to go through training alone… What would Filly say if she saw this? But I have to go with Flint, he's my new ally and I'll have to stay with him now. I say goodbye to Joiner then follow Flint over to Chris, who hastily declines our invitation and scuttles away from us. That's his loss.

_**Warp Fiasco, D8**_

As soon as Tobias dismisses us after explaining each station, Fran grabs my sleeve and pulls me towards the knife station. I was hoping that after a whole train journey of nothing but knife throwing and Woof's snarky comments, we would try something new, but I don't say anything and accept the weighted throwing knife she shoves in my hand.

"Oh, these are beautiful," she croons, balancing a knife on the tip of her finger and gazing at the gleaming blade.

"Yeah, beautiful," I mumble, baffled. How can anything meant for killing be beautiful? After a second of admiring the groves on the handle, Fran plummets down from Heaven and tells me to stand properly for throwing.

I adjust my stance so my left foot is ahead of my right and my knees are springy, like she showed me the other day.

"Comfortable?" She asks, echoing the question she asks every time.

"Yes." I reply as I always do, then draw the knife back and throw it with as much power as I can muster in my skinny arms. It hits the wall to the right of the target and it clatters noisily to the floor. Almost at once, she's shoving a fresh knife into my slack hand. I'm useless at this. I'm wasting her training time… One of us needs to survive and she's our best hope.

"Fran…" I say hesitantly, not wanting to say this but knowing at the same time that I have to offer. "If you don't want to bother with this alliance, I don't mind… I'm fine if you don't want to waste your training time teaching me…" I hang my head as she glares at me.

"Warp Fiasco!" She exclaims. "How little do you think of me? You think for one second I'd break off this alliance because you're annoying me?"

I nod.

"Well you're wrong. I want to be in an alliance with you and I want you to survive for as long as possible, so here!" She presses the new knife into my hand and points angrily at the target. I don't know why she suddenly thinks she has the right to be angry. I find myself getting more and more irritated by her little speech. She _should_ go! I'm only going to drag her down!

I spin round to the target again and fling the knife dangerously in its direction, not bothering to set myself up properly. _Thud._ We both gasp.

What the…?

"See!" She squeals, wringing her hands excitedly. I look at her and stare, shocked by what just happened, then I look back at the target, my knife sticking right out of the centre where the crosshairs meet. "I told you!"

A slow smile spreads across my face and I feel a rush of excitement… hope… I did it. I hit the target right in the middle… I can do it. She rushes over and hugs me, obviously overjoyed that her job will get somewhat easier now.

"Pfft." A disdainful noise interrupts our mini celebrations and we break apart, looking for the source. My eyes widen and I take a step back, but Fran stays where she is, refusing to be bullied into submission.

The Careers have joined us. How kind of them.

_**Poseidon Tanner, D4**_

Why are we wasting valuable training time bullying the two from District 8? What's the point? Damian said it was to scare them – to show them who is boss – but that seems pointless. We're Careers. They know one of us is most likely to win. Q steps right up to the girl and takes a knife from the table beside her.

"You're right, of course – these are beautiful. I heard you say it before," She flicks the knife in the air and catches it soundly in her palm. "But the way you're using them is a disgrace." To punctuate her point, she lifts her right arm and shoots the knife into the target without turning away from the girl. "There's no way you can learn to hit a target in two and a half days. You're practically dead already."

The girl from 8, who I know is called Fran, narrows her eyes at Q then glances at us all in turn. She lingers on Cora, who is hovering on the sidelines, blatantly uncomfortable with the situation. Once her eyes have flicked over all of us, she suddenly grabs a silver knife from the table and, without thinking, hurls it at her target, hitting the bullseye with such force that nearly the entire blade sinks into it.

Silence descends over our group as we stare at the knife embedded in the target.

Fran grabs another knife without a word and chucks it at the target, where it hits right next to her first one in the bullseye. Nearly everyone in the room is now watching our 'conversation' and they all gasp. The next thing that Q says surprises everyone.

"Join us."

"What?"

"No!"

"Are you crazy?"

"Hrmph!"

"Shut up!" Q yells over our protests and we fall silent once more, but Damian and Athena are glaring at Q. They're obviously not happy. Athena moves a step closer to Damian and puts her arm round his waist. I wish she's stop with the posturing. "Join us, 8, and you'll survive longer than with him." She states with a sneer in the boy's direction. Fran must be Egeria's age. She even has some of Egeria's spirit. The thought is sobering and I frown.

Fran starts to laugh.

"No way in hell. I'm staying with Warp. I gather that your invitation doesn't include him, so I'm saying no. Could you leave us alone now, please?"

Q places her hand on Fran's shoulder and moves even closer, staring at her with fake concern.

"You're making the wrong decision. Join us and survive."

"No. You're not that special."

Athena and Q look livid at this, but I secretly agree with Fran – just because we're from the Careers Districts doesn't make us any more worthy of victory. Q opens her mouth, but she's cut off by an unexpected voice.

"Listen, guys, she said no," The girl from 10 has silently crept forward and is speaking calmly as you would to a small child. "I'm sorry, but she's obviously not changing her mind, just leave her to it, it's her decision."

Her brother comes forward and stands on his sisters left side, bravely showing his support despite his pale, shocked and scared face. Q unexpectedly takes a step back, holding up her hands defensively and smirking wickedly, like she's imagining killing each of them in turn in extremely painful ways. Knowing Q, that's probably exactly what she's imagining.

"Fine. Think about it, kid," she hisses at Fran, "We're not patient."

"Thanks for the heads up." Fran spits back, scared but clearly wanting us gone. As a group, we turn away and walk back over to the sword fighting area, where Damian shrugs Athena off and starts to fight with a trainer. Cora looks at me and shakes her head in disappointment. How can she be so disapproving – she didn't do anything either. What does she really want _me_ to do? Leave the Careers? I can't do that. Surely she understands?

_**Robyn Freescott, D10**_

__Why did I interrupt yesterday? The girl was coping well enough by herself – she didn't really need my help so why did I get involved? All I've done is make the Careers hate me and Jay! I fiddle with the collar of my black polo shirt as we wait for the lift to arrive.

"Robyn, what you did yesterday was the right thing to do," Jay says out of the blue, making me frown. It was completely the wrong thing, there's hardly any way he's going to get home now.

"No it wasn't. Even Fawn thinks I was wrong." I remind him of Fawn's little rant yesterday about not baiting the Careers.

"Well, I think it was the right thing. Fran is pretty much Caitlin's age – how would you feel if it were Caitlyn?"

"But it's _not_ Caitlin," I snap, pointing out the blatantly obvious in the hope of getting him to take this seriously, "It's _Fran;_ someone who's going to have to die for you to get home." His eyes narrow at the last sentence and I know he's about to launch into his speech again. "Stop. Don't bother, I know what's coming."

"Hmm…" He says as the lift doors open with a sharp ping. He stand back to let me in first – ever the gentleman – then presses the down button, waving at Fratelli who is stood in the main room talking into the telephone.

When the doors open onto the basement training room, the scene is very different from yesterday. The groups are larger and more clearly defined than yesterday. On the right hand side are the Careers, clearly the most impressive and intimidating group of all, gathered in a tight circle talking and laughing loudly. Closest to them is the pair from 9, holding hands and talking quite comfortably. Next to them is Flint's alliance.

Flint's alliance intrigues me. He's by far the most physically able of that bunch and he's probably the main protector, but why would he choose people who so obviously need protecting when he could be a Career? He could have Q and Damian, yet he chose to start his own alliance with two twelve year olds and the weak boy from 7. I don't understand.

Over at the back are the group of Rebels, smiling smugly and nodding at each other.

All the other Tributes who have decided to do this alone are milling around near where Tobias stands with the Head Gamemaker, waiting for instructions to begin training for today, except the pair from 8, who are stood closest to the elevator. The boy is grinning at me like I'm his saviour or something. I nod at him then steer Jay away from them, as far away as possible.

"What-?" Jay splutters as I push him to the other side of the group.

"The two from Eight appear to be idolising us."

"From Eight?" He looks round gormlessly and finds them, twisting his mouth into a shy smile and waving a bit. "Oh no." He groans, looking at me with wide eyes. I know what he's thinking because I'm thinking the same. They both have to die. The thought is nauseating. They're just kids. Caitlin's age.

"Yeah…" I agree as Tobias begins to speak. I don't listen to a single word of his speech so it's a surprise when everyone starts shuffling off to stations and Jay turns to me expectantly. "Spears?" I ask, and we trudge off in that direction.

_**Aston Goren, D9**_

__"You have berry juice on your face!" Rye giggles, reaching up and wiping my cheek with her sleeve. I laugh too, relishing this carefree Rye and her laughter. She gets more serious and anxious in the evenings, leaving happy, simple Rye behind. She gets calmer again just before she goes to sleep, especially when we are actually lying in bed, but there's always just a few questionable hours… "Got it." She says with a triumphant grin that makes me laugh.

"Hey, Rye…" I pick up the brush from the berry juice pot and dab a bit on her nose quickly, before she can pull away. She squeals. "You have berry juice on your face!" I mimic her tone then laugh with her.

"Hi, excuse me…" I turn around and see February from District 6 scooting a chair up to the camouflage station with us. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind…"

"Not at all. I'm Aston, this is Rye," I say genially, gesturing at Rye who smiles and wiggles her fingers in a wave. February glances between the two of us in confusion, then grins awkwardly at us.

"I've been meaning to ask you…" She starts, picking up a brush and running it swiftly across the back of her hand, "You two… I don't understand…" She chooses another colour and mixes it onto her knuckles, blending the two shades of green perfectly. "Why are you allying?"

"Well, erm-" I stammer awkwardly, wishing that me and Rye had taken the time to fully construct out past together rather than just saying 'we know each other from school', which is as far as we got before we got bored.

"We're in love," Rye cuts in, blushing in the right places and looking shyly at February, who furrows her brow in concern and stares at me, her question obvious.

"You're developing love in the wrong place." February says frankly, adding some yellowy green to the camouflage pattern on her arm. "I have a question. Will you answer it truthfully? I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Yes, of course," Rye says straight away before I can stop her. Is she stupid? "Right Aston?" Then she looks at me with he big blue eyes and I can't tell her off or even muster some proper anger at her. I just slump my shoulder and mutter my assent.

"Did you two know each other before the Reaping?" Crap… no we didn't. What do we say? Rye promised!

"Yes, we did," Rye lies smoothly, not missing a single beat, "I used to tutor his sister with her maths work when she needed extra help. Over the years I got to know Aston as well and we got closer and closer," she beams at me and holds my hand.

"Yeah, Carrie always struggled with her… Prime numbers when she was younger. Rye's a genius in that area and a really good teacher," I say, wondering where the hell all this false information is coming from. Maybe I'm a natural liar. Rye sure as hell is. The thought scares me. I know nothing about Rye except what she's told me and with her newly revealed lying skills she could be luring me into an alliance to kill me. I look at her with fresh eyes and try to see the psycho killer, two-faced murderer side of her. No. All I can see is the 15 year old girl with an undeserved medical bracelet and berry juice still smudged on her nose. There's no point denying it – I really like Rye and I think she likes me. It would explain the goofy grin she's currently wearing. February interrupts my mini epiphany.

"I'm in love too," She says, smiling kindly at us.

"Oh yeah, we heard!" Rye grabs February's left hand and yanks it towards her. Jeez Rye, she might want to use that arm someday. I notice that she carefully avoids smudging February's design, which is obviously meant to be camouflage. "Well, so did all of Panem, really," she giggles and examines February's ring, tilting it in the light while February smiles to herself. "It's beautiful!"

"That it is," she glances around the room, looking for any sign that we could be overheard. Me and Rye both lean in curiously. "I feel bad though, I'm using my engagement to further my chances in these Games…"

"No one can blame you for that," I say reassuringly and she seems to relax a bit, "We all have to play to our strengths."

"What are your strengths?" She asks us. Erm… I don't have any strengths. I've not thought about it much, but I'm not exactly bringing anything to mine and Rye's alliance.

"I can tell different types of grain apart – I'm sure that'll be useful," Rye says sarcastically when she realises I don't have anything to say. "Aston's strong, though. Every night he holds me in his strong arms until I fall asleep. He's kind and compassionate and smart," She finishes with a blush and an awkward look at me as though she's just remembered I'm here.

"Well Rye's quick and cunning. She's good at hiding," I pause, smiling fondly as I remember our random game of hide and seek on the train. I only joined in to humour her, but it was good fun in the end and her whole face lights up when she laughs, she's beautiful in her own way, "She's beautiful." I mumble without thinking. Both girls look at me in shock then return to their camouflage in silence. I can tell Rye's trying to hide her grin and it makes me smile. Everything about her makes me smile. Oh, damn it. What's she doing to me?

_**Hemlock "Hemmy" Austbury, D7**_

__"And this is clover…" Says the boring-as-hell instructor as she points to a patch of the plants. I roll my eyes and contemplate just walking away and learning something new. It's day three, only a couple of hours until my private session and I barely know how to use any weapons. It's Ally and Demeter who are holding me back – I know that but I can't just leave them. Yes I can. Can I? Yes.

"Erm…" I butt in, cutting off the instructor as she talks about burdock leaves, which are not common fare in District 7 but something I still know about. Peel the stems, eat the leaves… "Sorry, I know this; I'm going to practice with an axe." Ok, not an entirely new skill, but very calming and therapeutic.

"Ok, we'll come find you," says Ally then points at a patch of chives, asking if they're edible. Of course they are. What do they learn in District 3?

I restrain myself from yelling at her – at everyone – then wander over to the axe station. There is a rack attached to the wall with a whole multitude of axes, hatchets and cleavers hanging from it. I glance over them and pick up the one that looks most like mine, satisfied when it's almost exactly the same weight and length. It's even got the same type of blade – long and curved, perfect for felling hemlock trees. I smile ironically to myself and turn to face the logs that have been attached to pikes for practise.

They look simple enough. I walk up to the one on the far left and trace an imaginary line on the bark, mentally marking right where I want to hit it. Having done that, I place my hands expertly on the handle and swing it round into the bark so it makes a rewarding _clunk_ noise. I yank the axe out and swing again and again from different angles, working right through the wood. I cut all 6 of the logs apart like this, relishing the familiar action and the too warm, slightly sweaty feeling that I've got to know so well. It's comforting. The only thing that's missing now is Oscar making some quip about what girls should be doing, rather than hacking up bits of wood. _"Ladies are too graceful and elegant for the woods… They should be inside singing or sewing… Except you. You're neither graceful nor elegant." _That's what he'd say if he were here. I'd then proceed to slap him a bit too hard on the arm and he'd make a scene until I felt guilty enough to apologise. _Oh, I miss you, Oscar._

"Hey. It's lunch time, Hem." Hearing Demeter call me by Oscar's nickname is wrong. No one at home calls me Hem apart from Oscar and that's only because I like how it sounds from him. It sounds better than any single syllable nickname rightfully should.

Wait… lunch time… Crap! I've spent all of my 'learn a new skill' time on chopping up wood! Lunch time… then my private session, then tomorrow, then the interviews, then the Games. I do some quick maths in my head and work it out… Just 69 hours until I'm in the Arena and the gong goes off. I gulp and put down my axe, suddenly shaky. It's definitely time for lunch and serious comfort eating, so I follow Demeter and Ally towards the dining room. I grab a few rolls of bread, tomato soup, garlic bread and side salad, a huge slice of carrot cake, a piece of shortbread and a cup of tea. I'd never really had tea until I came here, but now it's my favourite thing, especially with milk and sugar.

"Hungry, Hemmy?" Ally titters as I sit down with my tray of food.

"Always, Ally, yourself?" I smirk and look down at her tray, which holds a single plate of salad. She pales slightly as she looks down at it with a disgusted expression. "Nervous?" I ask, softening my tone a bit, to just subtly mocking as opposed to full-blown, Hemlock-Austbury-scorn. She shrugs unconvincingly. She obviously is nervous. So am I, we just deal with it in very different ways – she eats nothing, I eat everything.

Ally quickly steers the conversation away from herself and asks Demeter what she'll do for her private session. Out of all of us, Demeter is our best hope for any sponsors. We've all come to the same conclusion; we're just not saying it. Ally and I were just too rebellious at our Reapings. All conversation stops, however, when a small, mousy man in a long purple robe walks out of the training room, clears his throat then announces in a clear voice:

"Damian Flashman, District 1!"

Damian stands from his table and follows the Gamemaker back into the training room, ignoring the kiss Athena blows at him.

My allies and I stare at each other with wide eyes. Yep, we're all terrified.


	20. Private Sessions

_17__th__ September 2012. That's the exact date of when I last updated this fic. I know most of you will have given up on me by now, but if you're reading this then thank you for sticking with me. I've had a difficult few months but everything's fine now. It's been so long that I don't have a single Document in my Doc Manager. Oops._

"_If you are going through hell, keep going." ~ Winston Churchill_

**Chapter 19:** Private Sessions

_**Flint Laurer, D2**_

__"Ok, Free, tell me, what are you going to show the Gamemakers?" I ask as Athena disappears through the dining room doors.

"I'm going to show them how fast I can run," she says, twisting a small piece of her hair around her finger. It bounces off and hangs in a tight curl. "Then I'll tie that knot that you showed us…"

"The Arbor Knot?" Ash sneers. I shoot him a warning look. He's been acting funny for the past few days and it's making me nervous. What's he doing?

"Sure…" Free glances at me and I smile reassuringly. "What about you, Ash?" She shoots at him.

"Probably something that will better my chances of survival." He mutters sullenly. Free pouts but doesn't comment and I mentally commend her; it's not easy putting up with Ash when he's in this mood. I decide to redirect the conversation before any harm can be done.

"When we get into the Arena, I want all three of you to run to safety, ok?" I look at each of them in turn – first Free, then Ash and finally Fee, who hasn't spoken yet today, I think she's nervous. "I'll run towards the Cornucopia and try to get some food or a weapon." _Or take out some of the competition_, I add in my head. They all nod, Ash a little reluctantly, and Athena re-enters the room, signalling that it's my turn.

"Flint!" I turn around as Free calls my name and she hugs me. "Good luck."

"And you, Free." I bend to her level and whisper in her ear, "Try not to kill Ash while I'm away." To which she giggles before sitting back down between our two other allies. I'd never say it out loud but out of the four of us, either Free or I will be the last standing from our alliance. Hopefully it won't come down to the two of us.

As I walk into the huge training room, I realise that I haven't thought about what I'm going to do for my own session, I've been desperately trying to ready the others for theirs without a single thought about my own. I make a split second decision and pick up a sword and a dagger, before gesturing for a dummy to be brought forward. Over the next 15 minutes, I give the Gamemakers two reasons to give me a high score – first, I can fight and defend myself and secondly, I'll provide a good show. Each move I make is a mixture of perfect technique and huge extravagance. That's basically the MO of the Hunger Games.

At the end of my allotted time, I bow respectfully to the Gamemakers then replace my weapons and calmly stroll out. That could've gone a whole lot worse. At least they didn't ignore me or laugh at me. At least they're still sober.

In the dining room, Q is strutting up and down with her arms crossed, impatiently waiting for her turn.

"Good luck." I say amicably. She just snarls as she passes me. "Suit yourself."

_**Alessia "Ally" Monroe, D3**_

__The dining room is silent as I gesture to the kid from 4 that it's his turn and walk over to my friends – no, allies – to give them some final words of advice.

"How was it?" Hemmy whispers, unwilling to break the silence or let anyone else hear our conversation.

"Really well actually. I think they liked me," I reply sarcastically. How does she think it went? I scratch my nose in a nonchalant manner and mutter, "Roof, midnight." They both nod at me, showing they understand. We're all going to be knackered when we finally reach the Arena. "Good luck!" I say over my shoulder as I leave.

In truth, my session could not have been worse. As soon as I entered the room I was subject to 20 pairs of narrowed eyes and much muttering and whispering. Of course, they know who I am and what I stand for and now they'll have some idea of what I'm willing to do to achieve my goals. I did actually try at the beginning of my Private Session – I played the Game and tried to light a fire. I managed to get the pile of leave to smoke a bit before just giving up and sitting cross legged in the middle of the training room, listening to the Gamemakers gossiping. It's almost like they don't care about the kids that are going to die. After a few minutes, an awkward silence fell and they just stared at me until my time was up.

The elevator doors ping open and I'm spat out into the waiting talons of Freda, who drags me into the living area with Chris, who looks unnaturally pale, and Carl and Xenon. Xenon looks at me with a spaced out look but Carl stand up and places a hand on my shoulder, which I shake off impatiently. I don't like Carl. I don't like how he looks down on me like I'm a naughty school girl, but Xenon, my own mentor, is next to useless so I haven't told him exactly how I feel yet.

"How was your Private Session, Chris?" I ask, immediately deflecting any attention from myself.

"It was… alright. I correctly identified 10 edible plants and then made a shelter and camouflaged it. They seemed fairly impressed." I shuffle over to him and ruffle his hair.

"I'm impressed!" I smile encouragingly at him. "You sound as if you did pretty well. You look pale though…"

"Yeah, I'm not feeling well…" He shivers slightly and I put my arm around him comfortingly.

"Tell me."

"Well… As I was going in, they were clearing up after Q… Arms and legs everywhere… A head…"

"What?" I exclaim.

"Dummies." He explains. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Don't worry, I can handle Q. I'm sure she's soft inside." Yeah, like a crocodile – there's still about a foot of hard exterior to get through first.

_**February McKinley, D6**_

"Hey, February!" My head snaps up towards the doorway, where Hugo and standing, looking quite pleased with himself. "It's your turn." He says then walks towards the elevator. Hmm. No good luck, Hugo? Well, I suppose luck won't help me now. I stand up and start walking towards the doors. As I go, I twist my engagement ring around my finger and then kiss it. Kissing my ring has become a nervous tick for me now; somehow it makes me feel better thinking that somewhere, anywhere, Allan is thinking of me too.

The training room seems so much bigger now that I'm the only tribute in it. The Gamemakers look down at me for half a second before judging me unworthy and returning to their conversations. This is so unfair.

"February McKinley, District Six." I announce confidently, standing tall with my hands behind my back and my chin held high. It's lucky they can't see me nervously playing with my ring.

I realise that no one is paying any attention to me and move over to the target practice station and throw some spears at various human silhouettes – strangely therapeutic for a troubled mind. When my arm starts to hurt from the repetitive action, I wander over to the camouflage station and start to paint my arm how I did when I was talking to the couple from 9 the other day. She, at least, seemed to appreciate it. I had my doubts about their relationship to start with because they just didn't interact like two people in love but over the last few days, I've seen them bond in a way I didn't think was possible – not in the Capitol. They didn't know each other before the Reaping, that much is obvious, but they certainly do now. They're in love, even if they themselves don't know it yet.

That's what happened with me and Allan. Love crept up on us.

I wonder how he is right now. What's he doing? Has he forgotten me already? Please, God, no! And how's Casper, his brother? I miss Casper, too. I miss his huge bear hugs whenever he saw me and how I had to ignore the pain of my frequently bruised bones during those hugs. I miss all my adopted family… More than my actual family, at least.

All too soon, one of the Gamemakers, a woman (in the loosest sense of the word) with silver skin and green hair is calling down to me.

"Thank you, Miss McKinley. May the odds be ever in your favour." I wipe my dirtied fingers off on a damp cloth and bow to them, before thanking them and walking back out into the dining room. In hindsight, that wasn't nearly as stressful as everyone was making out.

_**Francis "Fran" Weaver, D8**_

__The mood in the dining room had completely changed by the time my turn came around. Everyone was in good spirits after seeing nearly everyone come out smiling. Of course, there were a few exceptions. The little girl from 5, for example, came out howling and crying and her ally from 12 had to try and comfort her while looking absolutely terrified herself. Others, though, like Poseidon and Flint, came out positively beaming, which meant two things to the rest of us. A) The Gamemakers are in a good mood and B) We all had to try extra hard to be better than them.

My own Private Session went fairly well. Growing up around knives has always had its advantages. Even Warp is saying that his went alright and he's happy with how he performed. How we're all sat in front of the huge television screen in the lounge area waiting for our scores to be shown. We're all awarded out of 12 for how well we did in our Sessions, with 1 being awful and 12 being exceptional. I'm hoping for about a 6. Less than that and I'll be disappointed, more than that and… well, it's very unlikely. Along with the scores are given the chances we have of surviving these Games. We are all given a percentage chance, the idea is that it gives us all an idea of what to improve upon but we all know it's to help betting. There was talk of scrapping it this year, but they decided to carry on as usual.

Woof and Tabitha (in her favourite spiked wig) are talking about our schedule tomorrow, but I'm not listening and neither is Warp – something in his dazed, gormless look gives him away. He's just staring at the blank screen, waiting for it to start.

We all jump when the anthem begins playing and Tabitha giggles disgustingly and apologises for her own stupidity. She's never apologised before; why start now?

"Good evening, Panem!" Claudius and Caesar shout together, obviously pre-rehearsed. They witter on about gossip and politics and their hair for about 10 minutes before actually starting the scheduled programme. "Shall we show the scores then?"

"Of course, Claudius. I can hardly wait! The Tributes must be biting their fingernails right off!" I look down at my hands and confirm that, in fact, all of my fingernails are still 100% in tact.

A very handsome picture of Damian from District 1 appears on screen, interposed with two numbers: 10, 13.5%.

10! That's crazy! And to have a chance of 13.5 is just amazing!

"How do they work out the percentage chance?" I ask Tabitha, the genius on all such matters.

"Well, first they take into account your training score, obviously, and then they think about how you reacted at your reaping and how brave you were. Oh, and the alliance you've chosen… That's it, really," she says in a chirpy voice, as though discussing the weather.

"And of course," Woof butts in after glancing at Athena Diamond's score: 7, 7%. Not as exceptional but still good. "There's the obvious. Your district. Career Districts normally get a higher chance than the outside districts. There are always exceptions, but that's the general rule."

"That's so unfair. Why are we judged on which district we come from?" Warp says.

"Because it's the Hunger Games." Woof replies simply. True. We watch as Tribute after Tribute gets their results.

Q gets the same training score as Damian but only gets a chance of 13%. I wonder what made up that extra 0.5%. She'll be furious. She does better than her District partner, though. Flint only scores 9 and 5%. That 5% will be because of his alliance – I don't know why he's chosen two 12 year olds and a weakling from 7.

The Districts keep flying past until we finally reach 8 and the whole room goes silent. I can feel Warp shaking next to me as his picture comes onto screen and… Slowly… His score fades up onto the screen…

4, 2%

He drops his head into his hands and groans. I don't know what his problem is; he got higher than a few people older than him.

My photo comes onto the screen and my tummy tightens. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think how much I hate that picture. They've edited it to make my face more angular and my smile wilier – so much so that it's nearly unrecognisable. The numbers are revealed and I let out a sigh.

8, 4%

I'm so relieved. 8! What did I actually do to deserve that? I threw a few knives and I was polite. Maybe that was enough. Warp hugs me from the side and I hug him back. I can protect him in the Arena, and I might even get a few sponsors! The idea excites me – I might survive this!

The programme keeps running on TV, but none of us are listening or watching, Tabitha and Woof are running through what's going to happen tomorrow. We're not allowed any formal training for our interviews, but our mentors and escorts are allowed to give us casual advice, IF they can get a word in edgeways. We'll be with our stylists almost all day, being pampered and preened to within an inch of our lives. I'd rather swallow a pin cushion.

_**Frequently "Free" Mine, D12**_

__4 and 2%... That's actually better than I anticipated. I'm so proud of Joiner – he got one more point than me in his Private Session. 5 out of 12 is a very good score in the Hunger Games. But my pride for Joiner doesn't even compare with my pride for Flint. 9 and 5%! I feel quite guilty because the 5% is only so low because of me, Fee and Ash. Ash won't be feeling guilty at all though. He's starting to scare me because he's being all crazy and there's nothing I can do about it because at the end of the day I will be trying to survive this. Also, I don't want to have to choose between Flint and Ash, because I'd choose flint any day. I have a feeling it will soon come down to Ash and Flint… But let's hope not.


	21. Chance of Survival

**Chance of Survival**

District Name of Tribute Score Chance of Survival

1 Damian Flashman 10 13.5%

1 Athena Diamond 7 7%

2 Flint Laurer 9 5%

2 Quartz "Q" Enright 10 13%

3 Christopher "Chris" Foster 3 1%

3 Alessia "Ally" Monroe 1 0.5%

4 Poseidon Tanner 8 6%

4 Corallina "Cora" Radcliffe 8 7%

5 Aidan Gray 2 1%

5 Phoebe "Fee" Electra 2 1%

6 Hugo Ataylo 7 5%

6 February McKinley 7 5%

7 Ash Tamarack 4 2%

7 Hemlock "Hemmy" Austbury 1 0.5%

8 Warp Fiasco 4 2%

8 Francis "Fran" Weaver 8 4%

9 Aston Goren 8 6%

9 Rye Miller 8 3.5

10 Jay Freescott 7 5%

10 Robyn Freescott 6 3%

11 Sage Wilmslow 4 2%

11 Demeter "Demi" Ceres 7 3%

12 Joiner Humphrey 5 2%

12 Frequently "Free" Mine 4 2%


End file.
